


Cellmates

by crazyrayray113



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prison Loki, Rape, Regret, Revenge, Romance, Sexual Frustration, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyrayray113/pseuds/crazyrayray113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has been fairly content to rot away in his cell until the end of his eternity, but after a year in solitude, he receives an unexpected guest - a new cellmate after all this time.</p><p>Naomi has no idea why she's been kidnapped, but she now finds herself locked away in a dungeon with little more than her will to survive. And to make life even more interesting, only a single pane of glass separates her from the self-proclaimed God of Mischief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever posted... be gentle with me :3  
> It has not been officially beta'd (though I reread it like five hundred times) so if you see any errors I have missed, please let me know!!!  
> Also note that this thing doesn't break into chapters very well. It's mostly small breaks that often switch the points of view and while it fits in the context of the story, it doesn't fare well when chopped into chapters.  
> P.S. The mature warning is for later chapters... you are safe for now >)

It still surprised him how stirringly silent it could be down here. With all that went on above, not a single sound reached him until the doors to the dungeons unlocked. At which point, the entire room echoed with the sounds of armor clanking in time to the step that hurried down the stairs. It would be a young servant escorted by two guards. They would leave him with a meal three times a day and without so much as a word, they would leave again. The same cacophony of clattering metal and a quick step would fade up the stairwell again until he was once again left sitting in silence with nothing more than his thoughts for entertainment.

That had been his schedule for well over a year now. And the only deviation from this mundane existence was the occasional visits from his mother and the infrequent ones from his brother. The conversations were hardly worth the time – although he had much to spare. Frigga came always with the intent of consolation. She never lost faith in him, even though he’d given up on reconciliation long ago. She ensured that, despite being imprisoned, he wasn’t exactly suffering. She came with books and stories of all that went on above while he remained in captivity. On the other hand, his brother came with mundane conversation to which he didn’t respond. He was a fool to think their relationship was in any way salvageable.

Loki glanced toward the stairs, shifting only slightly where he sat against the stone column in the farthest corner. Despite not knowing the exact time, he knew his dinner was due any minute. Any moment, he would hear the door unlatch at the top of the stairs and the routine would continue. But still, not a sound. He craned his neck to ensure he hadn’t simply misheard. Nothing. Though he couldn’t see the door from anywhere in his cell, the shadows remained undisturbed – it was only one solid mass that still remained unbroken. He wasn’t really hungry, but the sudden lack of order intrigued him. _What in the realm could have possibly delayed them from so simple a task?_ A few thoughts swirled momentarily. Ultimately he didn’t care enough to pursue the ideas any further.

Anyway, his thoughts were soon interrupted by the door finally unlatching. The sounds, however, that traveled down the stairs to his waiting ears, were nothing near to what he expected. It was the quick step of the guards along with someone else. Someone being dragged down here against her will. Most assuredly not the average servant girl. He could hear her fussing and fighting, though the guards remained silent. He watched in his periphery as they came into view. The same two guards and a young woman he didn’t recognize. She wore clothes unbecoming of this realm and it seemed she wasn’t here by choice. He also noted she wasn’t wearing any shoes. _Odd._ She tugged insistently against the firm hold on both of her wrists and shoulders, though her efforts were futile.

The guards ignored her empty threats and obscenities as they forcefully tossed her into the cell adjoining his. She fell to the floor in an unceremonious fashion, but was quickly back on her feet, slamming her fists against the glass. She pounded at it until the glass cracked and sliced her hands. But she could only stare as it reformed before her very eyes, until the sheet of glass was solid again. With that, the guards turned and went back the way they came, paying him no mind. He listened until they latched the door shut and then his attention returned to her.

She nursed the bleeding wounds in her hands, pressing them against her shirt. The white fabric was instantly stained with scarlet. Her panicked eyes desperately searched the room, flying back and forth, her head hardly keeping up. He could almost hear her thoughts rattling around in her tiny, fragile skull. _Find a way out – any means of escape._ Loki knew full well she wouldn’t find one. If this glass prison had managed to contain him for this long, a pathetic mortal had no chance of escape. Regardless, she returned to her feet and quickly searched the room. After a few long moments, she eventually came to the same conclusion. Her chest heaved as the panic pressed on, her bleeding hands still fussing with her shirt. But she stilled completely when she saw him. Her dark brown eyes looked perplexed. It seemed for a moment that she might say something – perhaps inquire as to what he was doing here. She took some peace of mind knowing that she wasn’t alone. Of course, when Loki looked away with disinterest, she went back to her fussing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she went to the tiny bench against the wall, quickly taking a seat. She was on her feet again mere seconds later, her hands fervently digging in her pockets. She piled a few things on the bench before sitting down again, this time with a tiny bottle in one hand. Yanking the cap off with her teeth, she squeezed some clear liquid onto the cuts of her hands. He couldn’t really read the label at this distance, but it looked like it said crazy glue. Though that didn’t really sound correct. It certainly didn’t sound like something used for dressing wounds.

When she had finished, she carefully placed the bottle among her other, now treasured, items: her ring of keys, a small electronic device, a black leather wallet, and some kind of pen. The majority of it was useless now. She said something under her breath but he couldn’t tell what. Looking around again, he felt her gaze settle on him. He didn’t look up. But they both trained their eyes on the stairs when the door opened again. This time it was the noises he remembered: two guards and the servant with his dinner. They puttered quietly down the steps as they had three times a day for hundreds of days.

His new cellmate was on her feet again, pacing like a caged animal as they approached. She had her pen tight within her grasp as if it somehow made her look threatening locked inside of a glass box. She needn’t worry. On this trip, they wanted nothing to do with her. She watched intently as they crossed to his side of the cell.

He almost grinned at the way they all averted their gaze as he stared. He may have been a prisoner, but his authority and his predominantly horrific repertoire still made people nervous. Even with a thick layer of glass between them and his magic thoughtfully contained. With a short bow, she stepped into his cell through a temporary opening in the glass. She set out his meal, collecting the dishes from the one prior. Her gaze was still centered on the floor as she hurried back out again. The glass resealed and the magic barrier remained unbroken. And then they moved back up the stairs again.

Loki glanced, only briefly at the tray of food that had been set out for him. Same old gruel. He didn’t care for it since he’d been banished. Like everything else of this realm, it left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d pick at it later.

He caught her watching him again. Most likely still trying to get a grasp on her situation. Or possibly eyeing his food. When he quirked a tiny grin, she turned away in a huff and went back to her pacing. Humans were such curious creatures. The obvious always seemed to elude them, even at the best of times. She did a good fifteen laps around her cell before coming to the conclusion that she had nowhere to go. There wasn’t some secret to this place that she was missing. She was trapped. Same as he was. Whether she knew it or not.

 

This couldn’t be real, Naomi thought. The prospect of kidnap was real. The idea of captivity was real. But everything in between, along with some unimaginable details, simply couldn’t be real. _It’s not real. It’s only a dream – or a nightmare._ Even after learning that they assuredly weren’t alone in this universe, it was still unbelievable on so many levels. And yet, she knew she wasn’t on Earth anymore. Far from it. _It’s not real. It can’t be real._ Pausing in her twentieth lap around the tiny glass prison, she tried to gather her thoughts. _This can’t be real._ They were still careening far from the straight and narrow. She pressed her palms against her eyes, taking deep breaths through her nose and exhaling them shakily past her lips. _This can’t be real._

Once her breath was somewhat settled and she wasn’t actively suppressing the need to vomit, her thoughts regrouped into something partially legible. _How did this happen?_ How could a simple walk home have gone so totally wrong? _How did this happen?_ It hadn’t been a long walk, in fact it was rather short, but it still made her nervous every time she took it.

Returning from her friend’s house around the corner, she was on edge but she’d never thought anything could actually happen. _And certainly nothing like this._ In a secluded neighborhood like hers, the threat of being attacked was virtually non-existent. But it was so dark with the recent loss of the only light pole. Now a street once well lit was pitch dark and that made every shadow a monster and every noise a threat. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and tightened her grip on the pen until her knuckles turned white. It was one of the best gifts she had ever received – a tactical pen. An inconspicuous weapon that was actually legal. Without it, her confidence on such walks would have bottomed out long ago.

She was almost home. Only half a block to go. So close but not yet close enough. Her bare feet brushed silently against the asphalt as she walked, the rubber of her shoes squeaking against each other where they hung from her slightly curled fingers. Her long auburn hair was loose and she tensed whenever a stray curl dusted her shoulder. Tonight was so much worse. Her knuckles continued to clench around the carbide-tipped device. It had never seen action, fortunately. She hoped she’d never have to use it – to find out if she was capable of protecting herself. Though at this point she was sure a scream would alert her neighbors and she was only a short sprint from her doorstep. Surely this paranoia was unnecessary? Surely.

_How did this happen?_

In hindsight, she should have paid more attention to that insistent tug on her gut. The one that told her to run. The one that told her she really was in danger. But how was she to ever think that something otherworldly was stalking her? The events of New York were only a short year passed, but alien abduction still wasn’t the first thing on her mind. _Perhaps it should have been._

Naomi glanced over her shoulder, but saw only shadows cast by the parked cars and the trees overhead. It was only the lightest rustling. It could have been anything – the wind, a small animal. But in fact it was something much larger. She half turned and found herself pressed against another person that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A large hand clamped down over her mouth, smothering her only chance for help. She saw nothing after that. Being overwhelmed with panic, she stabbed with all the force she could muster – though it had very little affect on her attacker. She felt her pen break the skin more than once, but he didn’t slow. Despite her state of incoherency, she knew he was a man much larger than she. In the end, she managed one good hit, before her world was turned literally on its head.

_How did this happen? It can’t be real._

It was a sudden rush, like being dropped off of a building. No parachute. No beanbag awaiting you at the bottom. A long drop and then – most likely – a neck breaking stop. Braving every rollercoaster in the tri-state area suddenly felt like a mere merry go round ride. Moving at what felt like a million miles an hour, her head spun and she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. Or breathe. In fact, she could barely move at all. And then it was over. In that moment, she felt herself clutching her attacker – him being the only solid object within her reach. Her head was still spinning. There was a sound like an engine powering down and after that there was silence. No, not quite silence, just the persistent ringing in her ears that silenced everything else.

After a moment, when she finally felt it safe to open her eyes, she briefly observed the ornate dome under which she stood before being rushed out into the open. Her eyes, wide with a portentous mix of horror and awe, were overcome with an enormous shining city with sky scraping spires of gold. She admired the unending plane of precious metal for only a moment before being tossed onto the back of a horse suddenly bound at the wrists. She barely had a moment to regain her bearings before the horse took off. It wouldn’t have been nearly as jarring if she hadn’t been slung across the back end like a saddlebag.

She was left staring at a crystalline rainbow road that glowed under the horse’s thunderous hoof beats. It was a bridge running over the ocean. She could hear the waves lapping at a shore she couldn’t see. A short glance back the way they’d come and all she saw was stars. Perhaps that would have struck her as odd, if she weren’t still completely lost in her own panicked mind. It wasn’t until they were engulfed by the enormous city that she realized – she was either tripping _really_ hard or home wasn’t where she left it. She nearly choked on the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome her. _What the hell had just happened?_ Her befuddled brain could hardly fathom it.

Her entire body was numb when she was finally removed from the horse. Her midsection was a single unified spasm from being bounced up and down for so long. It was dizzying to be upright again. And so suddenly. Her gut gave another unholy turn. She tried to center her gaze on something stationary, with the hopes of letting the feeling pass. It only got worse. She was standing at the foot of a palace and she was completely surrounded by guards. They were all armed in a manor unbecoming of anything of this century. Anything of this _world_. She vomited. Her captors only briefly withdrew. As soon as she’d lost her entire dinner to the stone underfoot, she was braced by both of her arms and swiftly dragged away.

In the long precession into the bowels of this building, the shock slowly wore off. Regardless of where she was or who – or what – had taken her, escape needed to be the priority. She could already imagine herself being locked in some basement for the rest of her life. Dying alone and forgotten.

She paused in her wandering, chancing another look at her new companion. Well, not alone, she supposed. He was eyeing the food that had been laid out for him. But only for a moment until his rather blank stare settled on nothing again. He quirked an eyebrow, only just catching her stare. His green eyes were almost startling. They were bright emerald pools submerged in an otherwise dank exterior. His long black hair had a look she could only describe as grunge. His skin was deathly pale, his cheekbones very well pronounced. His shirt was rough and tattered and it hung loosely on his frail form. He had the look that any prisoner might. But his eyes – that stare – she hadn’t expected. The longer she held it, the more she felt he was reading her thoughts.

She avoided it after that sickening notion, her eyes refocusing on the magical glass. Reaching for it again, her pen still tight in her grasp, she scored it with an X and then watched as the scratches healed over into a once again flawless pane of glass. _This can’t be possible._ _This can’t be real._ She scratched at it again and again to the same end as a wave of anguish welled up inside her. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She’d done nothing to deserve this fate! With an aggravated yell, she turned and threw the pen across the room. The glass splintered on impact, the steel instrument falling to the floor and rolling away as the glass healed over again.

 _This can’t be real._ But it was.

“You can’t keep me here forever!” Naomi screamed. “You hear me!”

And what exactly was she going to do about it? As far as she knew, she’d found herself on the other end of the wormhole that had swallowed the New York skyline. Her friends and family would already know that she was missing. But they would never find her. _Never._ No one would. She was completely on her own. She was kicking herself for not taking those survival courses in college. They would come in handy right about now. Of course, that kind of survival had more to do with spending months in the wilderness, not being locked in a dungeon by aliens. Her face contorted into an angry scowl. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life in a glass cell. _No. They will not keep me here forever. I will find a way out  – even if it kills me!_

Swiftly crossing the room, she picked up her phone. It worked, but there was absolutely no service. That only furthered the idea that Kansas was long gone and she was really stuck at the other end of the rainbow-brick road. She glanced at the time. She could only assume that time still existed. Though it had to have been a tad askew, because according to her clock, she’d already been gone for almost twelve hours. That couldn’t be right? She shut almost everything off, in the hope of conserving the 85% battery life she had. It had to last – at least for a little while.

Turning it off, temporarily, she went to retrieve her pen where it had landed. She inventoried the rest of her belongings. Nominal usefulness. There was little she could do down here, aside from survive and hope the right people would be looking for her. She had to have hope that with the events of New York only shortly behind them, someone would be able to help. Someone would have the knowledge enough to find her. All she could do was wait. With a deep breath, she calmed herself, Only a cool head could prevail down here. And she would have to dig deep into her pocket and find new ways to smother that sense of hopelessness if she was to survive. She weighed her pen in her hand as she found an untouched column supporting their glass prison. The man in the other cell watched her as she fervently scratched a tally into the stone. The stone didn’t heal. Day one was accounted for. The first of so many more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is... chapter one... mostly vague character descriptions and a setup but whatever... gotta start somewhere :D Many many many thanks to anyone who read. I would also like to thank the people who read the first few sentences and then skimmed and then read the last few lines and my notes. You're important too! Though I question your methods... >) Teeanks so much!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one... and a prime example of how it doesn't break into chapters very well... but whatever...

She didn’t sleep that night. If it really was night. The torches around the room dimmed as if by magic all at once, as the room was bathed in a warm orange glow. Over and over she turned on the tiny cot, but with the sad remains of a mattress, it was like sleeping on a rock. And it wasn’t especially warm down here, so the fact there was no blanket made it even worse. She shivered, clutching her clothes. Her tank top and shorts had been appropriate for a warm summer day back home, but now she was really wishing she’d worn a sweatshirt.

Turning over again, she found her cellmate in exactly the same spot, sitting on the floor against the wall beside a very large pile of books. His eyes were closed, but how could anyone sleep like that? And why would he? She had noted already that for some reason, his white cubbyhole was sparsely decorated with furniture that hardly belonged there. And he had a bed. A _real_ bed with real bedding and expensive looking sheets. She didn’t even concern herself with the idea of fairness. But she felt obligated to wonder why he – who had a bed – was not sleeping in it.

Maybe he was meditating. Though he seemed a bit too relaxed for that. His arms hung lazily over his knees, and his chin almost touched his chest. No way he was conscious. And besides, he hadn’t moved in hours. She glanced at his tray of food. After a few moments of careful observation, she could tell someone had at least started fussing with it. But she’d barely caught a wink of shuteye. Surely with this proximity, she would have heard him get up. _I guess not._

He stirred and she quickly turned back over, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t much to look at. Only more white.

A few moments passed before she turned over again. Her breath caught in her throat when she met his gaze. The warm light reflected off his eyes as they might a cat’s – without thinking, she turned back over. She could have sworn she heard him laugh – low and quiet under his breath. The very _idea_ of the sound gave her chills. She rolled toward the wall, staring into the blaringly white wall, attempting to forget he was there. It didn’t work. All she could think was that he was watching her. Even with that layer of glass between them, she didn’t feel any safer. Not that she felt safe at all in captivity worlds away from home. But his piercing gaze was the icing on this disgusting cake.

Running a hand over the cold metal bed frame, she took a closer look at the cuts on her hands. The glue was a faint pink from the blood and it was already peeling at the edges. She mindlessly picked at it as her mind continued to swirl. The events that took place in New York – all of the news reports she’d seen – filtered through her brain. The attack came out of nowhere. One moment it was simply another day in the city, but the next, an enormous wormhole in the sky was spewing alien creatures that clearly didn’t come in peace. A year later the city was still in a state of repair. A year later, they barely had an explanation for what had occurred.

The conspiracy theories rolled in full force. Since the beginning of human civilization, man spoke of beings from another world but there was never any proof to be found. It only made sense that when proof was finally dropped in man’s lap, he didn’t know how to handle it. In the end, they were all caught with their tails between their legs. So the media swelled with panic and had it not been for this team – the Avengers – the entire world would still be trapped in an unending fear for what they couldn’t protect themselves from.

The entire thing was surreal. Even now, after being abducted by aliens and teleported to another planet. For now, she was in this blissful state of acceptance because waking up from this nightmare was still a possibility. She feared that when the reality finally set in, it would be a freak out for the record books.

With that in mind, she was thoroughly enjoying her foggy state of ignorance. She imagined waking up back home, entangled in sheets, face nuzzled in her pillow. This place would only be memory, half remembered from her last REM cycle. In a matter of minutes it would disappear completely. After a long shower and a quick breakfast, her boring routine would resume, but subconsciously she would be thrilled that she was anywhere but here. This imagined horror story. Maybe she’d even call up her sister and regale her with what she could remember. At least someone could be entertained by such misfortunes. Life would go on again. But only until she awoke, still in a very white cell, in a very dark dungeon, and a long long way from home. _Maybe it is real._

 

Loki decided within a few days that his new roommate was rather entertaining, whether she thought so or not. Much better than the endless silence that preceded her arrival. He observed her in silence as she so naively tried to find a way out of this place. Every time a meal was delivered, she would vainly attempt to catch its curriers’ attention. They knew better than to respond and they wouldn’t be moved by any threat or provocation. By the time she’d etched three tallies into the stone, her frustration was almost palpable.

Her brow furrowed deeply and both her fists clenched at her sides as the guards disappeared up the stairs again. He had to wonder what her plan was. Win the sympathy of the guards – the servant more likely. She’d be more relatable. More easily swain. She’d attempt to form a friendship that would at some point lead to an escape. Regardless, failure was imminent. If they went to the trouble of bringing her here and holding her here, they weren’t going to fall for that. _Foolish mortal._

Just like the night before, she riled herself into a one-woman frenzy, making as much noise as possible, desperate for someone to respond. Not even a second glance as the doors locked shut once again. She kicked the glass wall with a growl and then slid to the floor with a whimper as one of her bare toes gave a loud crack. Her face grew red as she violently massaged it. Her teeth were visibly clenched behind her snarling lips. Her nostrils flared as she took in air in a huff, trying to regain her lapsing composure after aggressively stubbing her toes.

When she finally returned to her feet, she limped. Her last three toes looked purple. She stumbled toward the bench wincing whenever she bumped her latest injury. She sat down, carefully extending her leg along the bench to avoid disturbing it again. She eyed it from afar, already grimacing at the dark and unholy tones. Her crazy glue wouldn’t help her this time.

Her big brown eyes were practically burning holes through the glass when she caught his subtle smirk. She sprung from her seat, suddenly disregarding the pain in her foot as she stomped – with a gimp – to the glass that separated their cells. “Is something funny?” she demanded. Loki almost rolled his eyes. Her long nails scratched the glass – her nose was almost pressed against it. And her glare only deepened. “I don’t know what the hell you’re in for. Frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that I have _no_ reason to be here. And I don’t need you making this shit hole even worse with your constant ogling! Leave me the fuck alone!”

Loki finally looked up at her, a wicked grin gracing his face. Ordinarily that was enough, but she only stared back, squinting until her eyes were only slits. Without breaking eye contact, he stood. That alone seemed to surprise her. He rose once more to his towering height –a good foot taller than her. Her form faltered only slightly as her gaze traveled upwards to meet his. He smiled widely as her brow slowly relaxed.

“Poor, naïve, little mortal,” he cooed quietly, his voice a mere purr in the darkness. “Thinks herself so immensely important. Have you no idea who I am?” He could tell by her expression she didn’t. “I am Loki. I am a _god_ you pathetic meat sack! You are so insurmountably insignificant – a petty prisoner. You want to know why I’m here? You want to know how far a god has to fall to end up down here?” He leaned closer until his breath fogged the glass. But even through the thin film of condensation, he watched the fear pool in the darkening brown of her eyes. “I invaded your worthless realm. I brought an army to your doorstep. I destroyed your city and slaughtered every single person who got in my way. I have been imprisoned for the rest of my life. An unenviable eternity! Now am I in any way deserving of that?” He pressed the toes of his boot against the glass, theoretically hanging over top of her. His smile slowly returned as he spoke again.

“ _Ogling_ ,” he chuckled. “I was to be your king and you just another nameless, faceless subject. If I wish to take pleasure in your mirthful antics, than I shall. You try so aptly to play the part of cool and confident and composed, but you abandon all of that for the sake of aggression and some meaningless show of force. You can’t even think through your thick skull, how can you hope to think your way through an enchanted pane of glass? Pity,” he spat, “that your intellect doesn’t measure up to the form you so vagrantly flaunt.” He gave her a very obvious perusal. She was still too wrapped up in his admission of attempted world domination to be too greatly offended. She was something of a sight, her clothes a mess with dried blood, her hair in a similar state of disarray from rolling around on it, and now her increasingly purple little foot. But beneath all that, he saw potential. Sultry curves and such delicate hands. Her teeth bit down on her soft pink lips in contemplation, but her stare was painfully unwavering.

The shock quickly faded – melding back into her sinister glare. Her lips gently parted, she pressed her body against the glass, leaning up on her tiptoes. Or those that were functioning. She lifted her neck, her chin brushing the cell between them. “You don’t scare me,” she said quietly. “I’m going to give you one motherfucking show,” she growled. “ _Loki._ ”

Well, that was certainly not the response he’d been expecting.

He leaned away, watching her go. She turned, limping back across her cell. She seemed remarkably unconcerned that he had attempted to take over her planet. And even less concerned with his verbal abuses. She simply stood there and embraced such things as compliments or fuel to the fire more likely. She hadn’t blushed out of embarrassment. Nor had she really cared to rebuke him for his assumptions and observations. The words merely slipped over her shoulders before dispersing into the emptiness of this dungeon. She didn’t care. She curled up on her cot, her hair cascading over the edge, her foot carefully placed out of harm’s way. And she was quiet after that.

Such a peculiar woman. Melodramatic and overzealous. _Overconfident is more like it_. One moment quiet and the next fuming for all the world to see. And what would that gain her? Certainly not the attention she sought. A show? He laughed quietly to himself, watching her feign sleep. So transparent. Pathetically predictable as with the rest of her ignorant race. Slimy, backhanded creatures that would blindly impale each other just as soon as bond in camaraderie. And he meant to rule them. Such a thing that in hindsight seemed both impossible and completely undesirable. It would have been a headache, second only to the one he received daily from the unyielding silence preceding and the present predicament invoked by his charming new companion.

He called to mind her flustered expression as she attempted to throw some sort of half-witted rebuttal his way. A show, he thought again. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. _A show?_ His countenance twisted mirthfully. _Have it your way, love. I’m looking forward to it._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is way short... yet another example of how this story resists being chopped into chapters... >/

She didn’t speak to him. Two whole days had passed and she’d barely glanced in his direction. After breakfast, he found her sprawled out on the floor in the middle of her cell. Silently, she doodled on the floor, her legs gently rocking behind her as her cheek rested heavily on her wrist. Over the course of an hour he had migrated across the room trying to see what she was drawing. From where he now sat, slumped in his chair, legs slung over the ottoman, he could make out a few cartoonish figures and obscure abstract creations. Her hair concealed her current addition, but it had to be a mural considering how long she’d been working on said masterpiece. Occasionally, he thought he could hear her humming a tune he didn’t know. Something disgustingly cheery.

She was intently focused on her work, until the door upstairs unlatched. It was a bit early for lunch, Loki thought. The lack of guards was also surprising, but he quickly recognized that step. He growled, slouching further into his slump. _Thor._ His cellmate glanced up when he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I come bearing lunch, brother.” Loki didn’t even look up, only continued to blankly stare at the other side of the cell. “Are you going to speak to me today? Or do you plan on ignoring me? As per usual.”

“That depends,” he said gruffly. “Do you intend to say anything worthy of my reply, _brother_?”

“So your mood has not improved then. Spectacular.” He set the tray down, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know why you come down here,” Loki growled.

“Because you’re my brother,” Thor quickly replied. He clenched his fist, still loathing that lie of endearment. “Perhaps it’s pity.”

“I don’t need your damn sympathies, Thor!” He stood up, crossing the cell in two long strides, nearly knocking the chair over. “I am perfectly content rotting to my death down here. So until such time I need my corpse dragged out, I have little need of your self-indulgent visits.”

“Thor?” A quiet word from the room’s only other occupant broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. “You – you’re one of the Avengers. You helped save New York. You helped save my planet,” she continued, coming back to her feet. She came to where she could better see him, her face suddenly lit up with some foolish glimmer of hope. “I’m from Earth – I’ve been kidnapped.” Loki watched the mighty Thor suddenly squirm. He wouldn’t even look at her. He glanced, but just as soon turned his attention to the tray of food. Or something else unworthy of such attention. “Please – I haven’t done anything wrong. Could you help me? Tell someone that this is a mistake. Please.”

Loki pulled a wild grin, eagerly awaiting his brother’s prosaic response, which he already saw brewing behind his shamefully averted eyes. “I’m sorry,” he apologized solemnly, absently probing the food on the tray. “But it’s not my place to help you. The order was not mine to make, I’m afraid.” Loki frowned. That was a bit of an odd response. Not his usual drawl. _It wasn’t his place?_ Surely if he was this uneasy, modestly avoiding the question, he had somehow managed to get his hand stuck in whatever it was. _Norn-forsaken oaf._

With a new sense of resolve, Thor shoved the tray through the glass, only slightly disturbing its contents in the process. “Perhaps you’ll be more cheerful another time,” he said quickly.

That was doubtful. Cheerful was a mood he did not often indulge. But seeing his brother so laughably befuddled was so amusing that it was almost possible.

He turned, his cape billowing in his wake and he hurried toward the stairs. So eager to escape their company all of the sudden. Loki turned back to her once he’d gone. “Well, so much for that fervent escape attempt.” No response. “I should thank you. Never in my life have I gotten him to shut his gaping trap so quickly.”

Once again, she hadn’t really acknowledged him. Instead, he found her stare intently fixated on the tray of food set out on the table behind him. He heard her stomach give a single very loud growl. It had escaped his notice previously, but she hadn’t been fed since being brought here. Glancing at the tallies scraped into the stone, he noted it had been nearly six days already. Considering that fact, she was fairing remarkably well. “Hungry?” he asked.

She shot him a dirty look in passing. She went back to her new spot on the floor, settling down on her belly and continuing to doodle without so much as a second glance. Certainly wasn’t the impetuous quip he was expecting. She simply went back to her drawing, which he still couldn’t identify. After a moment, he stood, puttering casually toward the glass wall between them. He nonchalantly examined her artwork. It wasn’t the uniform masterpiece he’d been expecting; instead it was a mish mosh of a thousand tiny doodles. Swirls and animals and a hundred other things he couldn’t identify. He spotted a few words written in an overly decorative script. Currently, she seemed to focus on what was possibly a horse. The angle was too odd to know for sure.

“Not to worry, darling, I’m sure they have to feed you eventually.”

“Fuck. You.” She etched a few more dark lines as her stomach growled again.

Loki smiled, having finally elicited a response. She’d held up even longer than he thought. “Perhaps they’d be more inclined to listen to you if you weren’t so stubborn. Maybe there is a lesson to be learned here, little one.”

“I have no shortage of humility, but I appreciate your concern, princess.”

He felt the sting – the lash of a tongue as sharp-witted as his own. Though she remained entirely expressionless, her tone was dripping with sarcasm. But her wit was staggeringly dry. When her returns were thoughtful, she played the role of a worthy adversary. But only the role. “It’s a shame,” he thought aloud. “I would wager you look marvelous on your knees.” The imagery was astounding. She quirked an eyebrow, but still withheld her gaze. “Begging for your life,” he amended.

“Is that what you’d like?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “To have dominion over anything willing to bow down at your feet? To be freely served by each and every petty creature that crosses your path?”

“Petty creature,” he laughed. “Don’t be so modest. You, my dear, are a prize.” She finally looked up – a strange mix of confusion and disbelief all carefully masked with disdain. “In spite of your obvious lack of restraint, you have a strong heart, brimming with pride – a spirit not so easily swain or broken. It presents a particular challenge, but one well worth its results. Some day I’ll see you in your rightful stead.”

Her eyes were ever so challenging. She returned the cap to her pen and slowly sat up and in the most methodical way possible. He couldn’t help but stare as she contorted back into a seated position, her hands gingerly fixing her hair and purposefully neglecting the collar of her shirt that was now remarkably lower than it was supposed to be, as she settled at last onto her knees. She looked up at him sideways, with a purely devilish look in her eyes. “Like this?” she asked coyly.

“Something like this,” he returned with a grin.

She edged a bit closer, moving on her hands and knees until she was only an arm’s length from the glass. “So this is what pleases the would-be-king?” Loki was silently wishing this pane of glass no longer stood between them. He could only imagine being locked in the same room with her for any amount of time. “And what would you have me do?”

If only she knew. His entire body tensed, though he did well to hide it, as his imagination ran of its own accord and his heart pumped white-hot blood through his veins until his pale white skin almost flushed. It nearly startled him – the vigor with which her mere suggestion took hold. She was stunning like this, gazing up at him oh so longingly. Her voice was like that of a siren, making him sway in her direction whether he wanted to or not. Who was controlling whom? She threw half a smile his way, her long eyelashes dusting her cheeks with every alluring blink of her eyes. Petty creature? She was a demon in disguise.

Visions of her naked form coursed through his brain – bound and gagged and his for the taking. _His._ He imagined her so utterly submissive, playing his game oh so perfectly. She would fight – but only just – and in the end, she would give in and love every single minute of it. His name would fall from her lips over and over again until her sultry voice was coarse like gravel. Such dulcet tones gave him chills. He could hear her gasp her allegiance to him, words broken by his every touch – his every whim. _Only his._ He could tease her until she came apart at his hands – her mind undone until her thoughts were solely focused on him. Until she knew nothing else. And then she would be his to control. _His._

She made a small noise and his eyes found hers again. She was still awaiting an answer. He quickly reigned in his careening restraint. “You would serve me,” he finally replied, “in every way that I see fit. You would do so loyally and without hesitation or question. You would make me the envy of the whole of my court. And I would make you mine – and _only_ mine.” He stared into her dark and doleful eyes.

“Only yours?” she questioned quietly.

“ _Mine_ ,” he growled.

She smiled, showing off a few of her pearly white teeth. And then all at once, she reverted back to her former self. She hopped back to her feet, casually strolling away. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but I belong to _no one_.”

Even as she disappeared into the private bathroom, he saw the way she swaggered across the room. She had gotten through to him in a place he didn’t think possible. _Little minx._ His entire existence here had suddenly become infinitely more interesting. The game was afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual frustration!!! O_o That is all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until later to post this... but I don't feel like waiting. I have to post it now so I can work on my costume and a hundred other school projects before I sink into an inevitable stress coma... O_O  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! It means the world to me!!! And while I am still terrified every time I post a chapter, your views and comments are so very reassuring and have made the terror worthwhile! <3 <3 <3

The next morning she awoke with a renewed sense of energy. Maybe things weren’t so bad, she thought as she was reminded of Loki’s near tortured aura the night before. Subtle details proved so much in an otherwise well concealed hunger. His teeth were clenched tighter than the hands fisted into an ever-whitening grip at his sides, unmoving except for the twitch in his fingers as he was smothering a subconscious need to touch – to reach for. Her skin had warmed at the thought, but the power he offered her kept the blush at bay. His positively possessive nature was almost endearing. Almost.

This was the first time she’d actually caught him asleep, sitting up and habitually ensuring he wasn’t creeping or doing something otherwise awkward and mischievous. Up until now, she’d simply assumed he was rooted to the floor where he usually sat, unless he was harassing her of course. But with the remarkably early hour he was still asleep, laid out on his comfy looking bed – _jerk_. He looked dead. Like a corpse. Sleeping flat on his back with his hands folded across his stomach, he was reminiscent of a vampire peacefully awaiting nightfall. Like at any moment his eyes would snap open and he would swiftly sink his teeth into someone’s neck. Then he would laugh with a stereotypical Transylvanian accent. No. Probably not that.

Odds were he wasn’t even sleeping; his expression never seemed to relax. But he came a bit closer this time. His chest rhythmically rose and fell. If she was quiet enough she could hear him softly breathing, undisturbed by the morning to come. She checked her phone. She had maybe half an hour before the lights woke him up. Stashing her things, she quickly slipped into the tiny private bathroom she had been afforded. It was only half private. The guards could see her if they had been present, but Loki couldn’t – thankfully. It was barely an airplane bathroom. With an additional space for a shower. There was a towel folded on the toilet and there were a few amenities sitting behind the sink. _How kind of them, she thought. Have the decency to provide me a toothbrush but no food._ That was painfully ironic. She tried to push the hunger pangs aside, wondering briefly if toothpaste was edible, only to find there wasn’t any. _Stupid dry toothbrush. Stupid useless dry toothbrush. Stupid stomach. Stupid hunger._ There was nothing to be done about it and she could only hope she’d be over the hump soon. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure she wasn’t being watched, she began to undress.

Her shirt was a mess, still stained with blood from her first day here. She ran the fabric under the open faucet and rubbed at it until it dulled from ruddy brown to a pinkish hue. Her shorts were all right, aside from needing to be washed. She briefly rinsed them as well and hung them beside her shirt. Finally stripping off the rest of her clothes, she untied her hair and started fussing with the shower. The thing was barely a showerhead and a drain.

The water was almost lukewarm when it finally turned on and she instinctually recoiled with shock. After a few minutes of getting used to it, she started scrubbing herself down, in the hopes of feeling slightly less gross. It was unlikely. The thought alone of being locked in a dungeon made her feel grimy and disgusting. She worked the water through her thick hair, down to the scalp, her fingers catching on all the knots that she didn’t have the means to untangle. This was why prisoners maintained shorter haircuts. Her curls were going to turn into dreads in the very near future.

Naomi imagined the look on her mother’s face the first time she came home with all of her hair chopped off. It had been both terrifying and hilarious at the same time. Every time afterward, through her teenage years, it became less startling. Although the time she came home with a novel shade of rainbow, she had actually threatened to dye it over again for the sake of her social life. Her mother was almost fond of it after a time, but it pained her to think about it now. The very notion stirred a hundred other disheartening thoughts.

Surely they knew by now that she was gone – kidnapped. The authorities were probably involved now. But there’d be no trace of her to find. No trail to follow. And no one would believe that she’d been abducted by aliens. Although it was more plausible after New York. But even if someone considered it, they wouldn’t find her. They couldn’t reach her. And as of now, she was doomed to spend the rest of her miserable life barking obscenities through a pane of glass at a man who claimed to be a god and had tried to take over the world.

With an audible sigh, she was certain that if she ever got home, no one would believe any of that.

The water was getting gradually colder, as she forced her thoughts away from home. Her skin formed little goose bumps. She cleaned up with a little more urgency, finding a tune to distract herself with. It helped – minimally. She picked a song almost fitting of the situation, with poetic lyrics about not giving a shit. Her first instinct was usually something more mellow, but under the circumstances that was just going to upset her and stir things up that were better left buried.

When she was moderately satisfied with her state of hygiene, she abandoned the shower and checked her now damp clothes. Still wet. She pulled her underwear back on, listening all the while to hear if her cellmate had stirred. The room was still painfully silent. That wasn’t saying much. He moved like a shadow and he would have made an astounding stalker. She craned her neck around the corner. _Smug little bastard._ Loki had returned to his usual spot and he was staring in his usually awkward fashion. He seemed to take satisfaction from simply knowing she was naked. Joke was on him – she actually wasn’t. Well, not anymore. She grumbled in order to ignore the chill that rolled up her spine. The thought of his listening – imagining – _fantasizing_.

She feigned a gag and then snatched up the toothbrush, violently scrubbing her teeth. As if the noise might make her forget that he was sitting out there. And just waiting for her to return. What would he say this time? What petty harassment tactic would he employ today? Anything would rattle her, she decided with a grumble. His stare alone did things she didn’t wish to overthink. His bright green eyes practically taunted her to look away. The way they looked her up and down – for show or not – was shamefully arousing. How could she help but wonder of his sincerity? With another quick look around the corner, she found his gaze still aggravatingly centered.

Loki smiled sweetly, as if he wasn’t panning through a menagerie of disgusting, perverse, sexual thoughts. Rolling her eyes, she wondered if this was all some sort of joke – if his imprisonment was a total lie and their current predicament was all part of some sexual fantasy brought to life. Surely he wouldn’t have dragged it out this long? No, their awkward situation was exacerbated, but not intentionally.

Her clothes were still slightly damp, but she was tired of standing there half naked, pondering their odd relationship. Fully clothed again, she finally emerged.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much.” She wound the towel around her hair until she had formed a large turban atop her head. That was sort of an exaggeration. She was better off while she was in the shower with a feigned sense of solitude. She sat down on the floor beside her cot, snatching up her wallet and quickly emptying its contents. Having already reorganized it half a dozen times since being here, she knew exactly what was in it. She set everything out in piles before her, putting the bills in piles, placing the credit cards in numerical order, and setting aside the papers she could later use for doodling or any other number of origami-like boredom applications. She really envied his collection of leather bound tomes.

Regressing into the mindset of a child, she found creative ways to keep from losing her mind. She hadn’t made a fortuneteller since she was like ten, but a few quick folds and scribbles on an old receipt served as her current form of entertainment. She pondered a hundred stupid yes-or-no questions while flipping the contraption in her hands. _Will I ever get out of here?_ G – R – E – E – N. One – two – three. She pulled back the fold. _Don’t count on it._ It couldn’t be coincidence she’d gotten the same answer the seventeen times she had asked. Loki watched her curiously, or more specifically, the paper machine in her hands. “What did you do _before_ I got here?” she finally asked.

“Mostly nothing.”

Of course. She began folding and unfolding the paper cootie catcher again. He was gradually moving closer until he sat fairly near to the glass. “Did you need something?” Naomi asked without even looking up.

“What _are_ you doing?” He sounded legitimately curious.

“Fortune telling.” He looked oddly startled. “Care to ask a question?” She waggled the thing in his general direction.

“What’s your name?”

“Nameless subject,” was her snarky reply. “Yes or no questions only.”

Loki smirked. “Am I ever to escape this wretched place?” Recited like poetry.

“Pick a color.” She angled the fortuneteller so he could see his options.

“Red.” Black had been her second guess.

R – E – D. She opened the paper accordingly.

 “Pick a number. One through four,” she instructed.

“Four.”

One – two – three – four. “Pick a different number one through four.”

“Three.”

She opened the flap of his choosing, feigning concentration as she read the entry she’d scribbled inside. “Absolutely not,” she said definitively. He frowned. “See for yourself. The fortuneteller has spoken.” She pressed the paper to the glass and he squinted to read her mostly terrible handwriting.

“I question your foresight.”

“You don’t trust my intuition?”

He glared at her as if it were obvious. “I don’t trust you at all.”

She smiled sweetly. “Shall I assume you have a plan of your own for that escape then? If not you should have more faith in the fortune teller.” He didn’t respond, only continued to watch as she waved her hand around the cootie catcher as if she were practicing voodoo.

Loki grinned, his eyes turning a very bright green. His hand duplicated her motion, his long fingers making it look much more fluid and practiced.  She thought to rebuff him for mocking her, but just as soon as the thought crossed her mind, a green glowing smoke suddenly blossomed around his hand. For a moment she thought she was seeing things. He laughed when he caught her confused expression. His other hand joined and all of the sudden the smoke disappeared and an exact copy of her little paper fortuneteller appeared in his hands – chicken scratch and all. He eyed it curiously, turning it over as if to look for the source of its magic. He copied her action without saying a word, asking a silent query and opening and closing it until he revealed his answer. He smiled at her again – that devious, _dangerous_ smirk.

“Fortunately, I will not be entrusting my fate to a scrap of paper.”  The paper burst into a bright green flame and then it was gone – turned to ash as simply as it had come into existence. Then he stood, brushing off his trousers and moving back to his usual spot against the wall.

She had arrived in this place through a wormhole and was soon after locked in an enchanted cell that healed itself upon every escape attempt. His ability to conjure origami shouldn’t have surprised her. Perhaps what really surprised her was the fact that he was contained to this place in spite of having some weird affinity for magic. _Show off._ Maybe he really did have a plan. Maybe he really was like those psychopathic maniacs on TV, just biding his time but all the while completely capable of escape. Unless it was all just part of their game. She rolled her eyes. She was growing tired of it already.

As soon as he retreated into his you’re-no-longer-worthy-of-my-attention mood, she felt her renewed sense of energy literally vanish, quickly replaced by strengthened pangs of hunger and homesickness.

Her stomach ached with a prolonged emptiness. It made her entire body feel fatigued. The paper fortuneteller shook in her hands until she let them fall soundlessly into her lap. A headache that had only been a dull pain in the days past, was quickly evolving into a hunger headache of a debilitating nature. Warily she glanced at the notches in the stone beside her cot. She’d been locked in this cell for more than a week. She’d been without food for just as long. The only time in her life she’d gone that long without food was when she was really sick more than ten years ago. But even then, her overly attentive mother had forced her to nibble on toast and dry crackers. How long could a human live without food? It wasn’t something she’d pondered before. She could vaguely recall Gandhi fasting for something like a month. But she could also recall that the speed of starvation was highly circumstantial. It had much to do with weight and body fat and activity levels.

Surely these people didn’t intend to let her starve? What purpose would that serve? Why go to such trouble to bring her here only to let her die without cause? She wasn’t ready to believe that she could be _dead_ within a few weeks. Perhaps it was their intent to simply torment her and eventually provide her with some form of sustenance. She could only hope. _Just as I had hoped this place was only a dream – a nightmare._

She stilled her shaking hands, ensuring that Loki hadn’t noticed. She knew his type: a predator. And not the run of the mill feral dog. He hunted with stealth and silence and cunning only paralleled by the swiftest of killers – the kind that could smell fear and spot weakness a mile away. And she could imagine his heckling jaws clamping down on her neck the very second she showed either one.

Remembering such tensions in her past, her expression steeled instinctually, her every emotion vanishing completely. Watching her elder sister literally tear their family apart, there was little she could do but sit on the sidelines and wait and hold the rest of them together. When there was no alternative but to be strong, she was strong. They emerged on the other side of that conflict as a very different group of people, but she was still strong.

She stared bleakly at the paper in her hands, playing the game again, turning the folds this way and that until she uncurled the last for her answer. _I will not be entrusting my fate to a scrap of paper._ Her teeth clenched as she crushed the little paper device in her hands. Fate or fortune wouldn’t save her. Nor would this endless waste of time. So what then? She looked to where Loki sat, lost in his usual funk. Up until now, their few conversations were basically part of this unending pissing contest, but he had to know something. He had a way out. He’d been down here long enough. A year at least. He was her best bet. She clenched her fists tighter as the shaking persisted. _I promised him a show._ And the show would go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know where the fortune teller business came from... it seemed like a bizarrely entertaining scenario. Whether is was or not remains to be seen.  
> The only thing that irks me about this chapter is not knowing about Asgardian bathroom fixtures (because I worry about these things). I figured bathes would be preferred to showers but that wouldn't make sense in prison... O.o Whatever. It is what it is. If Loki wants a bathtub he can conjure one and while he's at it, how about a magical martini? I am now picturing the weirdest thing ever. If I could draw... this would be hilarious.  
> P.S. I'm not actually writing that. No magical bathtubs. Or martinis.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned, mild/implied rape ahead... yea... you knew it was coming...

As the days continued their slow and steady procession, Loki began to wonder when in the realm she was going to run out of things to do. He’d have gone mad by now if it weren’t for the books, but she found countless ways to keep herself occupied despite having only a handful of things at her disposal. Today her ring of metal keys was the distraction. Having plucked each one from the ring, she was now lying on the floor and sliding them across it with the apparent intent of getting them within one of the three rings she’d drawn on the floor across the room. She tightly pursed her lips, pinching one eye shut as she readied to send another key to its fate. She moved it left and right until she’d lined it up and then gave it a solid flick of the wrist. For the third time since the game began, she replaced the key occupying the center ring in order to earn points, he assumed. That was, if she was keeping track.

After the seven or so keys were scattered across her makeshift scoreboard, she hopped to her feet and collected them, before returning to her perch and playing again with renewed vigor.

She’d been quiet today. He couldn’t even force a witless insult out of her. She seemed remarkably focused on so trivial a task. Which made it all the more surprising when she spoke up without provocation. Still carefully aligning her next projectile, her face totally expressionless otherwise, she asked, “Was there some point to taking over my _pathetic_ planet?”

That was rather blunt. What twisted train of thought had led her to such an inquisition? He could only imagine. “Of course there was a point,” he retorted. “I wouldn’t have expended such energy and resources for nothing.”

“Well, it just seemed like an odd course of action considering how dim-witted and worthless we are. Doesn’t do a _god_ much credit to subjugate a bunch of humans.”

Loki frowned. _Is she serious?_ For the first time since she’d come here, he was genuinely unsure of her sarcasm. “Midgard was merely a consolation prize, dwarfed by a much higher cause. It was a casualty of war, suffering a self-inflicted wound. Had you humans not been so hungry for power, squabbling like animals in an attempt to wield a force you couldn’t hope to control, perhaps you could have avoided the conflict entirely.” She pushed another key toward the ink rings as if she weren’t even listening. “My original intent had little do to with your _pathetic planet_ , as you so aptly put it.”

She rolled over, thrusting her arms into the air in silent triumph as she managed to get more than one key in the tiny center circle. He heard her sigh, her hands absently massaging her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. And then her rather deep stare settled on him. She folded her hands across her chest. “So what _was_ your original intent?”

A hundred thoughts flooded his mind, but for some reason none of them stuck. He didn’t latch onto any one in particular. Words eluded him. His silver tongue turned leaden in his mouth as he suddenly fumbled for an explanation. It was a quest for the honor he deserved – the power he craved – another chance to prove wrong all those who looked down on him as some petty excuse for a warrior. He meant to rule them, as was his rightful stead in the scheme of the realms. That was his intent? Was it not? Or was that a later developed notion to justify that he was once more wandering in the shadow of another. His lips twisted with disgust. _Thanos thought me a puppet – a pawn, but that was the intent, was it not?_ He put the power and the purpose within his grasp asking only for the Tesseract in return. A simple task. A mortal could have accomplished it. So he bought into his scheme with the _intent_ to deviate of his own accord when the timing was right. Means to an end. The intent was to be the last one standing – the one holding all the cards. Only then would he be free of the shade created with the potential of others. This was the intent. Was it not?

_You lack conviction._

Conviction, Loki sneered. _Conviction._ He remembered that man clearly enough, beloved among his fellow suited kinfolk. And now dead like so many others. But as his near last words in life, he made one final jab. _You lack conviction._ Oh no. It was not conviction he lacked. He knew why he’d done it. Out of anger and shame and spite and _hurt_. Revenge. It was a need to be better – to be stronger – after he was so horribly wronged. Disowned and abandoned. Completely forgotten. Sucked into the void to be torn apart by the branches of Ygdrassil, he had nothing but his anguish and the sad inevitability that he would survive that norn-forsaken Hel. And when he washed up on the edges of a world unknown, he was left with little but ambition and hopeless dreams. He wanted nothing more than to see his brother rot for his sufferings.

_You lack conviction._

His intent was clear as an Asgardian night. _I lack conviction? I wanted to watch the world burn! And to see my brother weep at its expense._ But that’s not the way it happened. He, yet again, rallied the meager might of Midgard and Loki found himself belittled, outmatched, disrespected. They made a fool out of him. It was a new level of humility. _Never again. I am a god! A king!_ Reduced to prisoner – a captive. What was his original intent? It didn’t matter now. He had failed so spectacularly given that being locked in a cell was never his intent.

_You lack conviction._

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “I was only wondering – thinking out loud.”

 _Probing little minx,_ Loki thought with a growl. Of course it didn’t matter. She was scrounging for information. But why? What would it gain her? A more affirmed knowledge that she was inevitably trapped here, perhaps? Or maybe it was merely curiosity. How dangerous a game she played. “Thinking in my specific direction,” Loki hissed. “Wonder what you may, I did what I had to do.”

“You make it sound like you are not the one to blame.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Even though you taunt with misplaced pride of your failings?”

Loki scoffed. “While the outcome was not desirable, should I not take pride in being the bane of so many superhuman creatures? I was defeated but only at the expense of so many others.”

“But you still lost. How could you take pride in loss, unless you weren’t wholly responsible?”

“You are a fool in attempting to make me any less of a villain.” She didn’t deny that unconscious thought. She was still in this state of not being seriously concerned. “Power is a funny thing,” Loki said with an empty laugh. “It’s a balance that shifts as simply as sediment; leaders washing away with time, being replaced and forgotten by those who were but menial pawns before. I’ve spent my entire life serving under someone else, enduring their torture and control in my quest for power. True be it, the idea to attack Midgard was not my own, but believe that I took up that hollow crown willingly, waiting for the day I could rise – no matter the influence to my mind. No matter the consequence. No matter the outcome. There is always a place for pride. I am not the warrior my brother is – or anyone else in this damned realm! I am the trickster – the one who lies and cheats and cares not for some foolish morality. There is always a plan. I take pride in staying one long stride ahead.”

He glared down at her, still intently admiring the stonework of the ceiling. “I would prefer not to be a captive,” he said matter-of-factly, “but there are worse things. Consequences I’ve yet to face. Consequences I won’t face.” He chuckled in a dismal sort of way. “This place is not so bad.”

“Did you know what you were doing?”

“What?”

“When you killed those people, did you know what you were doing?”

Still on this pointless crusade.

“Of course. The Æsir are renowned warriors – conquerors. Murders in some manner of speaking. I may not be standard in that supposition, but I am just as lethal. I’d make a man kill himself long before I put the blade to his throat.”

“Or in his back.”

Loki grinned. “You learn quicker than I deemed possible.”

“Give me the chance and I’m sure I’ll surprise you,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach to continue her pointless game. When she didn’t say anything more, he dropped back into his seat and snatched up one of his books, attempting to drown out the sounds of the little keys banging against one another.

Humanity, he thought, barely a few sentences deep in his book of choice. Humanity. Always searching for the good in a bad situation – in a terrible mess of a living creature. Well she wouldn’t find it. It didn’t matter how much of a contribution he made in concocting the plot against Midgard. All that mattered was that he despised it as much as the world he had previously thought to eradicate. And were he given the opportunity to do so again, he would not repeat his mistakes. He would see that world ruined – _destroyed_. He would see every living soul upon it dead. Dead without hope of salvation. _Conviction._ What need did he have to strive for anything more than the suffering of those that had made his life a living Hel? There was no need. He would find himself in a better place. Or die trying.

They glanced up as the dungeon doors unlatched. Loki was slowly tiring of these unexpected visits. Too early for dinner, he thought absently, and judging by the noise it wasn’t their ordinary visitors. Two guards, but not _their_ guards. He was good with faces and he recognized most that had the misfortune of coming down here. His nerves steeled when he finally acknowledged the ruckus and caught sight of the two drunken men descending the steps. He sighed. _No good can come of this._

His cellmate ignored them. She’d stopped bothering with visitors and servants after Thor had so completely ignored her. Which still irked him to some degree – the valiant defender of Midgard shamelessly ignoring an obvious plea for mercy. For now, she continued with her game without looking up, but her aim suffered. She caught on just as he had. _No good can come of this._

Loki stood from his seat, approaching slowly as the guards stumbled into the room, the last few steps nearly ending their crusade. It wouldn’t be the first time he saw the lessers of the court make blundering fools of themselves on their binge drinking escapades. He had endured the worst of such encounters before. On more than one occasion he’d been decorated in ale, spit, and vomit. And all while suffering through their heroic epics and useless toasts. They would thoughtlessly stumble through tales of mayhem and merry making and he would sit there, hating every moment of it. This would be no different.

Their laughter echoed through the mostly empty chamber. On the floor, his cellmate jumped when one of them fell into the glass as he stumbled along. She glared up at them, her brown-eyed gaze piercing. The first guard finally recovered from his minor fall and acknowledged her stare with a deathly serious look. Loki’s stomach flopped painfully. _No good can come of this._ Whatever joke they had been thoroughly enjoying was no longer even remotely funny as the first guard continued to stare at her – his gaze hungry and angry and unbecoming of sobriety. The second guard stopped giggling when he finally caught on.

“So this is the new prisoner I’ve heard whispers about,” he said. She continued to foolishly hold their sickening looks. _Don’t. You won’t win this fight._ “Pretty fox, this one.” Her eyes were like daggers and he saw it even at this distance. With something like a grumble or some inaudible jest, she finally looked away, fishing her pen from her pocket and starting to doodle again. It was a nervous tick, he decided at last. Whatever she said, or whatever they thought she had said, braced the room with a neck breaking tension to be shortly ignited. _Not good. Not good. No good can come of this._

She jumped again when the first guard banged hard on the glass, this time actually getting to her feet and staggering backward slightly. “I don’t believe you’re in a position to be making remarks like that, missy.” The barrier fell as the glass parted and she scrambled out of the way as he stepped into her cell. _Not good. Not good._ “Not so tough without the glass, are you?” Loki noted that her eyes were still as unforgiving as ever, though the fear in her posture was equally evident. “Do you have a name, love?” he asked, slowly edging forward – she countered in turn. She didn’t answer. Her wide eyes were dead centered on him, her limbs tense – the fight or flight response soon to make its decision and ultimately fail. There was nowhere she could run and a fight, even against a guard so heavily intoxicated, would not be easily won. “No?” the guard tried again. “You must have a name,” he insisted.

“Nameless, faceless subject,” she finally snapped, glancing briefly at Loki. He grinned. _So cheeky._ The guard wasn’t as amused. Even less so when he eyed Loki’s dangerous smile.

“Found yourself a new pet?” he inquired spitefully.

He laughed, dark and quiet, his chest vibrating slightly. “Pet.” He shook his head but offered little reply otherwise. Loki could hardly place her in the scheme of his chaotic life. But even if he could, he was not about to indulge this dull-witted, half-brained excuse for Einherjar.

The guard came forward, leaning toward the glass until Loki could almost smell the alcohol on his breath. “You are undeserving of a creature so beautiful.” Loki only continued to smile, shaking his head, slow and not even remotely concerned. “Filthy silver tongue of yours- ” He licked his lips tauntingly, half appreciating his observation. The guard turned back to her, not even finishing his statement. She hadn’t moved. “You one of his whores? Is that why you’re here?” Her countenance twisted uncomfortably. “He’s the God of Mischief after all. I’m sure despite his bondage, he’s found a way inside your head.” She glanced at him incredulously, but he just shrugged. “Though I will admit,” he said, creeping closer again. “He has good taste.” He reached for her and she shirked out of his gasp with the same intense stare. Loki thought she might bite him if he got any closer. Of course, with that infernal weapon of hers still tight in her hand, it was more likely that she would just stab him. _No good can come of this._

“There’s nowhere to run, you little wench.” After several weeks in captivity, she knew full well, but she continued to dodge his poorly aimed hands with a grace that seemed almost out of place. She shook in the instance of every brief reprieve. But held her ground when it mattered. But the guard’s distorted patience strained until finally one of his hands clamped down on her wrist, the skin twisting in his grip. Painfully restrained, she had no way to escape as his other hand extended in a moment of blind rage and contacted her face with a loud crack and a smothered scream. Loki almost flinched when he saw the bleeding break in the skin beneath her eye and her already swelling cheek. Her shaking hand pressed firmly against it as she regained her composure, her wrist still losing circulation under his grip.

“Suppose we try this again,” the guard growled, dragging her closer. Her entire form was stiff when his hand touched her face and slowly pushed hers away, blood trickling down her cheek. He leaned forward haphazardly and her eyes widened in disgust as his lips met her cheek and her jaw and her chin until finally smothering her mouth. She pinched her eyes shut, her body trying valiantly to reject something obviously awful. He thought he saw her gag. It was almost funny for a moment, his sloppy wet mouth covering hers and the way she squeamishly tried to escape him. He half-expected the guard to fall asleep on her. But as he deepened their kiss and his free hand slid down her side, mindlessly groping at anything it could reach, Loki felt sick.

It was something like envy, dark green and haunting. He tensed, his muscles shaking in anticipation. He ran his hand up her thigh and it made Loki’s skin crawl. His fingertips burned as the sei∂r pooled in the palms of his hands, just waiting to come free and wreak havoc on anything in its path. As the guard continued to caress her unwilling form, he could imagine the oh-so-terrible fate that would befall him. Dismemberment. Decapitation. Evisceration. The possibilities were endless. His cruelties were without limits. But he remembered the glass – the enchantment that bound his magic to the cell.

He watched as the drunken man tugged at her shorts making her squirm and shake. He saw that her very sharp writing utensil was still tight in her grasp – the hand braced by his tightening grip. She struggled to no avail and the other guard just watched, waiting to jump in himself. The look in his eyes. The vision of her hopelessly overwhelmed in a hurriedly escalating attack, burned him so deep he didn’t even know how to respond. It made him want – _need_ – to do something. But he couldn’t. He could do nothing. _No good can come of this._ So he squirmed where he stood, his mind racing, trying to think of something he could do. Two drunken guards weren’t going to be swain by his silver tongue. Nor would a mere verbal threat dissuade them from harming her any further. _No good can come of this._

It wasn’t the first time he’d been a helpless bystander in his life. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing and painful more often than not. This time was no different. In fact, it was possibly worse. Enduring Thor and the All-father’s heated arguments was so far dwarfed in comparison. His lips curled back into a snarl. How had he found himself here again? His fists clenched and all of the furniture within his cell slid toward the walls. How could she have been so foolish? She should have learned by now! She was a captive – how stubborn did she have to be in order to think it a good idea to be instigating conflict? And knowing full well that she couldn’t defend herself?

Loki heard the guard yelp as she finally escaped his hold on her wrist and drove the shank into his arm, blood immediately staining his bicep. But he responded in turn, dragging her backward by her hair until he dropped her onto her cot. He straddled her waist and braced her arms to the thin mattress until she could move nothing but her neck. Loki’s mind whirled when he heard her sob as she failed time and time again to escape him.

When the other guard closed in and he heard her muffled scream as clothing was forcefully torn, Loki could take it no longer. He raised a hand to the glass and it was instantly enveloped with ice. It crawled out from his fingertips until the whole of his cell was incased in a thickening sheet of frost. His breath met the freezing air in little clouds. Despite his heritage and the cold world he was born of, he shivered. He continued to stare, even though all he saw now was ice and his own shadow upon it. Only the tiniest sounds reached him now. Chills traveled up his spine to imagine what continued to transpire on the other side.

How could she be so foolish? How could she put her life in jeopardy like this? Without thought? Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut just this once? _There has to be something I can do_ , he thought again. Something. He couldn’t help the painful turn of his stomach, picturing the disgusting violation being done to her. If only he could help her. _Help her?_ Where had this even come from? This notion of salvation and mercy? Why did he want to help her? What had possessed him to think such a thing – to care? She was merely mortal – here to endure justice for some petty crime, he was sure. Why should he care what became of her? What reason did he have? Had she so infected him to have utterly stolen his train of thought? _Help her?_

A particularly loud noise pierced the silence he had created – a cry. A shriek of jarring pain shortly smothered. He could almost see the hand clamped tightly over her face. _Help her?_ No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide from his imagination. He couldn’t convince himself that she somehow deserved this. That this was somehow her own fault. He couldn’t un-hear her cries. He couldn’t ignore the possessive attitude he’d developed toward her. She would be his – that was what he’d told her. His. _Mine._ It boiled his blood now. There had to be something he could do. Anything. But there wasn’t. So he stood there, gritting his teeth until his head ached, silently hoping she would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the cliffhanger!!! But if you haven't already noticed, I've been updating every other day (when I am able) so you won't have to wait too long :)  
> Thanks again to everyone who read!!! I love you all!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hangers are evil. Here's the next one. A day early. Because I'm so nice...
> 
> And be forewarned as before, rape stuff...

Naomi didn’t move until she heard the door lock behind them. She didn’t move until she was sure they had gone. Until the room was bathed in absolute silence, she left her face buried in the sheet of the mattress. She waited until her breath settled slightly, but as soon as she sat up, her chest swelled and she sobbed uncontrollably. After a few moments, she took the reigns again, wiping her eyes that were already red and raw and puffy. She smothered the last of the sniffles as she hung her legs over the edge of the cot.

This was a new level of pain for her. Her face throbbed. Her head ached. Her wrists burned. And everywhere else just felt violated. Horribly, horribly violated. She fingered the tear in her shorts – they had barely survived. _She_ had barely survived. She glanced to the door in a sudden panic, as if they might return again. But the room was still quiet. She swallowed another sob, trying to ignore and forget the enormous ache between her legs, the sticky wetness that was hardly her own. Bile crept up her throat as she failed to push the images from her mind – fragments of the most horrific moments of her entire life. The guard’s hulking form pressing her down, his weight crushing her everywhere. The taste of saliva and sweat and dirty skin. The other guard holding her down by the shoulders as he half-consciously touched himself. Everything after that was only a sensation as she clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the horrors ensuing around her.

The feel of a tongue, teeth, suction. Hands clutching with bruising force. Her hair was forcefully yanked, her neck exposed and bit. The taste of blood as she bit her own lip. The sound of a scream – _her_ scream – as she lost the very last scrap of dignity she withheld in this place – as he took her – _claimed_ her – marked her in a way that she might never heal. The pain of him violently thrusting against her – _into her_ – was still radiating through her entire person. And then, when he was done, when he’d taken his fill, he beat her until bones broke and flesh bled. And then they were gone, though one assured with a kiss on her very bruised cheek that they would return again.

Naomi prayed that by morning they wouldn’t even remember she existed. If only she could be so fortunate.

She tried to stand, instead finding a place on the floor. She could feel where her ribs had cracked, where bones had bruised, and where muscles had been torn with the strain. Her hand came to her face. Her nose bled, a dry trail marking her lips and chin. She moved her hand to her cheek, but she nearly screamed, stilling all over until the pain stopped. Her eye radiated heat and pain. She’d smeared blood on her fingertips for the brief moment they’d rested upon her cheek. It was swollen to the point that blinking was not worth considering.

Her bloodshot eyes refocused, taking in the room that was remarkably unscathed from their encounter. She pushed it away from her mind again almost to a point of success until she took note of the temperature drop and a frosted pane of glass. She frowned, quickly erasing all emotion since one of her eyebrows played host to another ugly wound. Dragging her feet, she crossed the room, still hopeful this was a dream to be woken up from.

She nearly burned her hand with the lightest touch – that’s how cold it was. Her breath fogged and condensed on the glass. Magic, she remembered. Loki knew magic. She touched the glass again, this time just rapping her knuckles against it. There may have been a shadow, but still not a sound. She waited another minute before knocking again and this time the frost began to fade. Slowly it melted, cracking and sliding to the floor in sheets. Loki finally appeared, just standing on the other side, watching the water pool at his feet. The water ran off to nowhere as if it evaporated, until the cell was left as it was.

When he finally lifted his gaze, his eyes were wide, traveling her up and down with a look she could only describe as concern, though it would never be fitting of him. He remained rooted to the floor, but he finally spoke. “Are you all right?” She instantly dropped her eyes, staring at her feet. She continued to tug on the tear in her shorts, her hand the only thing holding them closed. Noted with a sickly turn of her stomach, her thighs underneath were bruised in shapes not unlike hands – _mindlessly groping hands_. “Are you all right?” he asked again, his tone a bit stronger.

She looked at him again, as incredulously as possible. “Do I look all right?” Her voice cracked uncomfortably as she watched him in disbelief. She’d yet to see the mess that had become of her face, but it felt like she’d been hit with a bowling ball. Even if it looked half as bad as she felt, it would be worthy of a sympathy cringe. And yet, he seemed somehow relieved.

Loki very lightly shook his head, continuing to take note of her injuries. She noticed when his wide-eyed stare settled on her disheveled shorts. “Did they,” he swallowed hard, his throat clearly dry. “Were you- ”

Tears brimmed and she aggressively held them at bay as the anger boiled over full-force. “What do you care?” Her hoarse voice was little more than a growl. “What do you care what happened to me? I mean, clearly you didn’t want to know,” she added, gesturing toward the pane of glass that was now devoid of ice and snow. “If you couldn’t stand to watch, you probably can’t handle hearing about it!”

Loki’s eyes flared bright green, but she could hear the strain in his voice to keep from yelling back. “Did you want me to see? Would that have pleased you?” His voice was soft, almost genuine. “If I had stood and watched – taken some sort of thrill from it? Reveled in your humility and anguish as they did?” He sounded disgusted at the very idea.

“I would have expected that! It wouldn’t have surprised me! But you didn’t do anything – you just stood there!”

“And what would you have me do?”

“Anything! You’re some sort of magician! Don’t tell me there was nothing you could do! Don’t pretend to care when I know you, of all people, do not. You just stood there!”

“There is nothing I could do!” His hands fisted and his table along with its contents leapt across the room, the glass top shattering when it impacted the barrier of the cell while the food upon it lay to waste around the room. With a dagger suddenly conjured into his hand, he stabbed the glass and a dance of black and green haze ensued. They fought one another, snaking this way and that as the glass tried to reseal, until the black finally smothered the bright green glow and the barrier was restored. “This cell contains my sei∂r – my magic! Not even the almighty All-father’s powers could penetrate it! I am trapped here same as you are! There is nothing I could’ve done for you! _Nothing!_ But next time, just for your sake, I’ll be sure to take a damn seat and watch the show!”

She disappeared into the bathroom without hearing the end of his explosive retort. When the swell of emotion was too much to withhold, she ran. She stripped off her clothes and ran into the shower, slamming the knob until the water finally turned on. She slid down the wall, the stone scratching the only part of her that wasn’t already damaged, as the sobs shook her chest again. But this time, she couldn’t stop them. Her entire body shook and the water stung the many open wounds. But it was cool on the many swells. The water ran red to the drain intermingled with the smells and funk. But no amount of cold water would erase what happened. Nor would it allow her to forget about the man – god – king – _monster_ – whatever who was still shouting to himself in the adjoining cell.

Over the sound of the running water, she couldn’t decipher what he was saying. Or maybe it was because she chose not to hear him anymore. How could she have been so stupid? To even think he would help? It was nothing more than a game to him. Some sick perverted game. A joke at her expense. She felt more hurt by his rejection than what she had endured at the hands of the guards and she was nauseated from feeling that way. She had taken some level of comfort from their forced companionship. Unfortunately she had imagined it and she saw infinitely more than he could ever give. Perhaps he was the monster he’d made himself out to be. How could she have been so stupid?

Those guards were right. There would never be care or compassion or even sympathy! She was little more than a whore, only alive and left alone because a pane of glass kept them apart. And surely, had he been able, he would have done the same as the drunken guards had, if not worse. And she was an idiot to think otherwise.

She let the water run cold. Colder. She hadn’t even bothered to scrub herself down. In spite of really wanting to feel even a little less disgusting, she couldn’t bring herself to endure the pain it would’ve caused. Bones were broken and skin was obviously lacerated. Naomi took the time only to clean the wounds she could reach – the ones that weren’t jarringly painful. As for those, she just hoped they wouldn’t get infected.

When the water finally shut off of its own accord, she hung forward over her knees and just shivered for another thirty minutes more before finally getting up again and reluctantly redressing in her tarnished clothes. The cells were dark, the lights dimmed almost into total darkness. She strained through her un-swollen eye to find Loki and ensure he wasn’t waiting for her – waiting to bludgeon her with more insults and ridicule. Thankfully he’d given up, his very loud internal monologue having ended some time ago. He was wrapped very haphazardly in the sheets of his bed. Naomi stared at her own with a look of absolute disgust. _I wish I could burn it._ The sheet – the only sheet – was permanently stained and the stench would never leave it.

She tore it off with a vengeance, shoving it as far out of sight as possible, before she flipped the tiny mattress with some sense of relief. Better. Definitely better. With some sense of clarity restored, she picked up her tiny bottle of glue and went back to the bathroom, already dreading the task ahead.

One look in the mirror and she almost didn’t recognize the mess that was her rearranged face. She touched her cheek, this time managing to only wince, though the pain hadn’t changed. The bone beneath her eye had cracked, she felt as she slid her fingers along the line. There’d be no fixing that. She blotted the cut and then sealed it with a tiny spot of glue. The others were easier. She even managed to mend the tear in her shorts, though rather unconventionally. And in the end, all that was left was a feeling of bitter revulsion and a lot of pain. And hunger. Hunger only marred by her recent loss of appetite.

Naomi shuffled back out to the cot and threw herself down before she could reconsider the things that had occurred there. She buried her face in the mattress, her nose almost meeting the wood frame underneath. She tried desperately to find a new plan – a new course of action – a new goal to keep her mind from slipping into that hopeless pit of despair that she’d been on the brink of for so long. But there was nothing. If Loki couldn’t get out than neither could she. If they hadn’t fed her by now, odds were they wouldn’t. If Loki didn’t help her, then she was alone. Alone in a cell underground on another world where no one would find her. Alone in a cell, in a dungeon, where she would inevitably starve to death. Not even a crumb in sympathy would find its way into this cell – and things would only get worse from here. Her fingers curled around her wrist – the sensitive, over stimulated flesh – and her fingertips met on the other side. Skinny little thing.

She gulped almost nervously and she felt her entire directive violently shift. Boredom became almost instantly irrelevant. She had no need to stay busy. Their petty game was suddenly insignificant. She didn’t need to keep herself occupied. No need to appease a man who would much rather see her dead and gone. No need to keep moving. No need to attempt an escape or win the favor of those that had enslaved her. No need to do anything anymore. She needed nothing more than to hunker down and stay alive. And nothing else mattered as the days dragged on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you are! Less cliff hangery. Alas, it will continue to be sad and terrible for a little while... but at the same time not so terrible...
> 
> Thanks sooo much for reading! xoxoxoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we reach the absolute bottom... and Loki doesn't like it...

Loki was not familiar with regret. He knew it only from his subconscious mind’s darkest wanderings in a time of such utter self-loathing that he regretted his existence within an inch of his life. That was a long time ago and put behind him well enough. But he could still recall the cold hand that was shame tugging at the back of his neck until his hair stood on end. It played with his thoughts and riled them into chaos until they were but wild animals, once docile, loosed from their chains and set to tear his conscience apart. If there was anything left of it. If it had even been there to start. He roughly tousled his hair until the raven black strands tangled around his fingers. Was it regret? Or just the sickly repercussions of compassion?

His wit was sharp. His cruel, verbal abuse even more so. It was all part of his charmingly abhorrent nature. With words alone he could crush his enemies without so much as lifting a finger. A thousand times – a tactic employed a thousand times. Hundreds of thousands of times. And yet, he sat at the edge of his bed fussing with his attire as if the fabric had wronged him in some way, regret wreaking havoc. What had he said this time? Such a natural slip of the tongue, he’d almost forgotten entirely. But not entirely.

Her eyes were dark, the brown almost black. And in that moment, when emotion slipped through her mask, he saw terror. Fear of an unholy sort mixed with embarrassment and pain, traces of sadness and nearly defeat – for the first time since he’d ever known her. And in that moment, that weakness only just contained, she confronted him. Her tiny frame was battered and broken, bruised and bleeding. But this time, not a wound self-inflicted for stupidity’s sake. She carried herself as a warrior might, wearing scars without concern, but wearing scars all the same. Loki saw the destruction done to her mind, as he had feared. She struck out in anger and he felt it like a whip to flesh already raw from abuse. _There must have been something I could have done. Anything?_ Every mistake rubbed like dirt in his face. He should’ve done something. _I should have done something!_

He couldn’t speak for her pain, but what he endured waiting and wondering and imagining – surely it came close. But she’d never know. She’d never see it that way – because he was the monster. The monster that would haunt her dreams. The monster that would wake her in fits of sobs and screams. The monster that would lurk forever in the shadows of a paranoid mind. _The monster parents tell their children about at night…_

He didn’t want to watch. No part of him wanted to see first hand what the guards had done to her. That was a show worthy of no one’s admission. But that’s what he told her – that was his gruesome intent. That’s what he told her, even though it was a threat so empty the endless void beyond the realms was pleasantly dwarfed. He hadn’t meant it. Or at least, he was fairly certain he didn’t. It made him sick to think about it, so he assumed he hadn’t. He thought – _thought_ – to apologize. Apologize? _Apologize?_ Apologize for what? For being a captive? For being incapable of helping her? It wasn’t his fault! There was nothing he could have done. _I could have tried._ _I_ should _have tried._ And therein lie the feeling they called regret.

Waiting and watching for almost a week, he kept thinking she would come around again. But he never saw it. She hadn’t spoken a single word since that night. Her mindless fiddling had all but ceased. She hadn’t added anything to her sketches on the floor in days. Thinking back on it now, she’d spent more time sleeping than anything else. He had assumed she was simply testing him with the silent treatment, but he was beginning to realize that this wasn’t the case.

The water in the shower had been running for a long time now – he guessed a half an hour at least. She didn’t sing this time. His ears were met only with the continuous pitter-patter of water falling to the stone and then the gurgling as it moved down the drain. He listened closer, thinking perhaps he’d simply missed it. No. She was quiet.

He let his chin rest against his chest, as he was slowly lulled by the sound. And then it finally stopped. She fussed momentarily, her feet squeaking on the polished floor and then she emerged, a towel wrapped around her. And Loki could only stare. Every day since arriving here, she went to incredible lengths to avoid being undressed where he could see her. But this time she puttered over to her cot, her long hair dripping and forming tiny puddles as she walked. Her drawings so meticulously adorning the floor were smeared under her feet. She had the sense enough to pull her underwear on with the towel still sitting precariously across her back. After that, she seemed to not care. She dropped the towel, missing the bench completely. It landed in a wet pile on the floor.

Loki’s eyes grew wide. She stood in plain sight, wearing nothing but a pair of black underpants. And for some reason she didn’t seem at all concerned. Perhaps it was all part of the show she had promised. Though she hardly delighted in his discomfort. Just as he could hardly stomach how little remained of her. She was beautiful, but sultry curves gave way to atrophied muscle and frail bones barely sheathed in milky white skin. But even that was marred, by bruises and forming scars where the guards had marked her skin. His gaze traveled down her long legs and just as soon back up again to her now exposed breasts. He didn’t breathe as she retrieved the towel again and dried her hair, the whole of her body exposed with her arms raised just above her. So little remained to be imagined.

She dropped the towel again and he finally took note of her shaking hands. Her fingers brushed her forehead, soon bracing her face as her body slightly swayed. She half turned, her waist resting on the wall, and he caught sight of the well-defined protrusions of her spine. He could count her ribs at a distance, the breaks from her encounter now reasonably obvious. There were distinct hollows in her cheeks. And the whole of her seemed absent, mind and soul.

Loki glanced at the notches in the stone. She’d been almost three weeks in captivity – three weeks without food. His entire body was tense as if at any moment he would come violently uncoiled like a snake. He wasn’t sure how all of this had escaped his notice before now. She was emaciated. Or very quickly on her way there. She wasn’t playing their little game anymore. She was trying to survive.

Regaining some of her stance, she finished dressing, though at a frighteningly slow pace. It seemed an eternity had passed before she finally fished her arm through the hole in the fabric. She didn’t even bother with her pants. She just curled up on her cot and tried to fall asleep. She drifted off after a while, her one arm hanging limp over the edge. But he couldn’t find the means as he was plagued by the image of her horribly neglected body.

Everyday after, it brought an unholy turn of his stomach to see her suddenly struggling; she who had been so headstrong and stubborn and fearless. The lack of sustenance would take its toll slowly, but after the attack, her strength had bottomed out with remarkable haste. Ultimately he came to a very sickening realization: he was watching her die.

His chest hurt. It was a burn he could only compare with revenge. His entire body felt hot with rage as he watched her mope silently in her cage. He tried more than once to get her attention, but either she was very successfully ignoring him or she was too debilitated to even notice. He didn’t even know her name to call to her. She was only human and while he had no soft spot for their kind, this was cruel. She was dying needlessly. Slowly. Painfully. He deserved to be here. He deserved far less than what he received down here and yet she was the one suffering. Suffering – and dying. _But I will not make the same mistake twice._

Loki anxiously awaited the guards that morning, pacing the glass with a look that could kill. On each turn, he glanced at his cellmate. She was curled up on her cot, unmoving with her back to him. The curves of her body were so sharp, even beneath her clothes. Her hipbones protruded a little further than they should have. Her shoulders were a little more prominent than he remembered. He had to turn away to hold his cool before it was necessary that he lose it.

No sooner had he centered his thoughts, did the doors to their dungeon unlatch. His eyes followed them all the way down the stairs. The young woman carrying a clattering tray of food visibly slowed when she met his gaze, so much that the guard bumped into her. She needed only to recognize the anger in his gaze to send hers straight to the floor. The guards continued to hurry her forward until she was a theoretical arm’s length away.

“If you intend to ignore me, I will make you sincerely regret it.” He could have sworn he saw her shiver. He extended a hand, slowly, as not to startle her and pointed to where his companion lay. Gradually her eyes followed his silent command. “This woman needs to be fed.”

“I’m sorry?” she asked quietly.

“You heard me,” he growled. “She needs to be fed. She’s been down here for more than a fortnight with nothing to eat. She is soon to starve to death.”

“I was never instructed to bring anything for her,” she meekly replied.

“Then consider this your instruction.”

“I’m sorry – I can’t do that. I can only serve what’s been left out for you.”

“Then give her mine.” His tone left no room for rebuttal. But he could see the depth of her confliction. Someone had explained this entire situation to her – to all of them. She was simply trying to cover that fact with some pitiful excuse.

“I’m afraid I cannot. Please understand that I have my orders.”

“Whose orders?” He had a fair idea judging by her silence. _She should learn to fear me more._ “Give her my meal.” She didn’t move, but her eyes darted back and forth, between him and the guards. “ _Now._ ”

“I was given specific instructions -”

Loki slammed a fist against the glass and it splintered around his hand, its enchantment fervently fighting his magic to seal itself again. The servant girl stumbled, nearly losing her grip on the tray. “She is dying!” That familiar black haze formed against the glass, finally overwhelming his hold. One of the guards steadied the terrified young woman while the other violently shoved the tray of food through the newly parted glass into his cell before ushering the lot of them back the way they’d come.

Well that was a spectacular failure. She had not been forgotten – she was being purposefully neglected. And none of his threats were going to change that. He peered with a deepening frown at the slightly disturbed tray of food. His appetite was non-existent. Something had to be done about this.

He approached the pane that separated them, noting that she still hadn’t moved. Not even the noise of their confrontation had disturbed her. Not even the prospect of food was enough. _How could she give up so easily?_ It was infuriating. His hand roughly massaged his face. There had to be something else.

His forehead came to rest against the glass with a light _thunk_. The coolness quickly invaded the whole of his head. And his sei∂r leeched out again, coming to meet that of the glass, intangible flames of either color licking at one another. But there was something about it. _What was that?_ He opened his eyes and found the room unchanged. No. Something was most assuredly different. It was something he hadn’t taken notice of before. He pressed his palm against the glass and found his reach diminished to some lesser degree. _Could it be possible?_ The entirety of this glass prison was encased in a barrier that prevented his escape. It was impervious to any form of magic. And yet, he could very distinctly recognize his limitations. This wall was different. This wall was far less protected. He’d never thought to test it, being that it wasn’t exposed to the outside, only the other cell. This might be possible. His thoughts suddenly whirled. This might be possible. If he could simply conjure something edible into her cell, maybe she would be all right.

Sitting back down in his usual spot, he focused every ounce of his energy. His back was a little stiffer, his entire posture a little tighter. His eyes were clenched shut. Loki decided within moments that it was possible, but it was going to take serious time and energy to do so. His only companion was still lying motionless across the room. It was partly his fault, he decided. Had he done something to stop those drunken bastards, maybe she’d still be hungry, but she wouldn’t have sunk into such a state so quickly. He couldn’t do nothing this time. He owed her a debt – however small. He needed to make amends for his own sake. It was worth it.

For hours on end, he attempted to break through the enchanted barrier that separated them. So far, it had all been for nothing. It was more difficult than he had anticipated. But her condition worsened with every passing moment. She couldn’t afford to wait. Two days passed and he was physically exhausted. His body was riddled with aches and pains like he’d just gone a few rounds with Banner’s beast. A few rounds. It wasn’t working. Two days later and he had nothing to show for it! The only thing able to put his mind slightly at ease was to see her doing something other than sleeping.

He breathed a sigh of relief to see her standing again, however weakly she did so. With that, he took a break. Let renewed strength prevail. She slipped into the bathroom where he couldn’t see her. He almost caught a moment of shuteye before she reappeared. As she stepped back into his line of sight, he was startled back to a bracing state of consciousness when she coughed suddenly. A horrible panic was born, even before he looked up. She hung forward, her delicate hand pressed against her chest as she continued to cough, more violently with every passing second. _Oh no. Not yet. This is too soon._ She tried to brace the cot as she stumbled forward, but her hand slipped and she collapsed. Even curled up on the floor, her body was still shaken with the same lung-tearing cough.

Loki was on his feet and across the room in half a second. “Guards! Guards, please help! Guards!”

Silence. The guards didn’t respond. And his prison comrade didn’t cough anymore. He turned back, fearful that he’d lost her already. He didn’t breathe as he watched with wide eyes for the rise and fall of her chest. He exhaled a long breath when he found it. Still alive. Still breathing. But she didn’t get up. She didn’t move any further than curling her legs into the fetal position. His time had run out. The guards weren’t going to save her. If he didn’t, no one would. Time for reprieve had run out. He regrouped with a well-renewed resolve.

The lights of the room dimmed, signaling nightfall in the world above. Just under an hour had passed, but Loki still stood with his hands pressed against the glass, trying until he was – almost literally – blue in the face. He watched her through squinted eyes again, seeing that even now she hadn’t moved. She made no attempt to stand or even sit up. Her strength, however infinite it had seemed for a time, had all but run out. _We can’t have that now can we?_

Finally he breached the other side. At last, he broke through the barrier, but that was the easy part. Now he had to keep it that way. No time to waste. He projected a perfect copy of himself into her cell, just beyond the pane of glass. Somehow it lessened the strain to have even half a presence on the other side. Though there was still a fresh film of sweat on his brow. His duplicate was unaffected, clad in garb more of his preference and looking fresh out of a throne room and not a prison cell. It was miraculous to see his hair in a presentable state.

Loki closed his eyes, forcing as much of his consciousness into his clone as he could. It was like pushing his brain through a colander, one very tightly weft. He could only hope it would recollect on the other side, but as of now he couldn’t even attempt to force it all the way through. Already the stress on his mind was nauseating. But at the very least, he could control it. He rushed to her side, turning her onto her back as gently as he could. All of the color had run from her face and her entire body was limp like a doll in his arms. A doll of only skin and bone. Her beautiful skin was clammy and cold with a thin film of sweat. Pulse racing and body shaking, she was barely coherent.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, leaning closer to listen. A few long breathes passed her lips, but none formed words. But he was confident, at least, that she had heard him. “Tell me your name, love.”

“Naomi,” she breathed after several tries.

“Naomi,” he returned. “You’re going to be safe now. I’m going to take care of you. I promise.” He tugged her into his lap, so that she was sitting up at least slightly. With a subtle motion of his hand, he conjured some food and water.

Loki collapsed with a muffled shout, almost losing his existence in the other cell entirely. For a long moment, he was unmoving, attempting to collect himself as the sei∂r pulsed aggressively around him. This barrier would complicate even the simplest of tasks. He slumped on his knees, his forehead sticking against the glass. His hands shook profusely. Watching his projection carefully, he noted that the sudden stress only barely affected him. His nostrils flared with a deep inhale and he refocused his mind again.

She was still quiet in his lap, having not even noticed his tiny outburst. He brought a chalice of water to her lips, careful with his subtly shaking hands. She hardly responded when the cool metal touched her lips. Tilting her head back he poured, the majority of the water running off her cheeks. Finally she swallowed, taking drink more feverishly once her mind registered what she was offered. One of her frail hands reached up, wrapping lightly around his wrist. Her hands shook almost as badly as his did. Her other hand, with a slightly firmer grip, fisted the fabric of his pant leg as she drank down the rest of the water. When she reached the end, she choked on the last few drops and he was instantly worried she’d fall into another fit like the last one. Momentarily, she calmed, merely adjusting in his lap.

Now for something more substantial. Thankfully he had the forethought to procure something that did not require chewing. In this state she’d probably object to such effort and he didn’t have the strength to acquire anything else. At least, for some time. Soup was supposedly a remedy for everything, he thought, sliding the container where he could better reach it. When he’d fallen ill as a child – on rare occasion – his mother would personally prepare them a brew he could never truly identify. No one in the nine realms ever made it so well. This would be subpar in comparison, but under the circumstances, it would certainly suffice.

Removing the lid, a large plume of steam escaped that quickly smothered the tiny room with the scent of the soup. He gave it a stir and then tasted to ensure it wasn’t too hot. Tolerable, he decided. He brought the spoon to her lips. “Open up, darling.” She gently parted her lips at his command, welcoming the first taste with a quiet sigh of relief. He was so sure he felt the warmth as it invaded the whole of her, one spoonful at a time. He lost count after a while, mindlessly feeding her until she wouldn’t take anymore. She curled further into his lap, nestling her face against his shirt. Before long, she was asleep – content and for the time being, safe.

Waving away the food with a quiet moan of exertion, he scooped her up and gently set her down on her cot. He could hear her sigh, a smile nearly gracing her features as she curled onto her side. It warmed his heart so much deeper than he ever thought it could.

Certain that she was safe for now he finally allowed the clone to disappear. Panting softly, he fell onto his side, thoroughly exhausted from the entire ordeal. Laid out on his back, he stared up at the ceiling until sleep took him by force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! And it's not a cliff hanger! Yay! The next three chapters are pretty much done and only need to be edited before I post them... Shouldn't be long, but as I have probably mentioned, I have several very large projects piled on top of each other, all of which have stricter deadlines than my stories... though it's clear which I'd prefer to be working on :/
> 
> I'll be able to work more freely after October 8 (for like three days until I get more projects thrown in my lap)... but it will be a good three days :3
> 
> P.S. New Thor: The Dark World tv spot... Loki bondage... I am now going to be even less productive... gawd. O_O


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this chapter, but for the life of me I can't stop going back and changing stuff... I'm still not totally happy with it, but that's probably because I've reread it three thousand times and it just doesn't make sense anymore... whatever. I had hopes to post it earlier but Marvel released a new Loki clip and I was so done for the rest of the day... my heart was literally shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. I shall reassemble it eventually, at which point it will be promptly obliterated again. I so cannot take it anymore! This movie is going to be the death of me! O_o Anyway, here ya go!

When Loki awoke the next day, his entire body was one unified ache. His back was sore from falling asleep on the floor and his head was throbbing from such a heavy overexertion. He sat up and his body produced a symphony of cracks and groans. He deeply massaged his tired face, pressing his back against the glass.

He glanced up with a start, having remembered the cause of all this pain. _Naomi._ He half turned to look over his shoulder. She was still sound asleep right where he’d set her down the night before. That was a relief. Facing forward again, he took note of the fresh tray of food that had already been set out for him. How long had he been asleep? While his internal clock was good, even he had trouble determining the time down here occasionally. He’d know for sure by lunchtime.

After a moment, he stood, stretching the sleep from his legs and carefully eyeing the food set out for him. He momentarily debated which would be simpler – or easier on his already aching body – conjuring meals out of thin air or teleporting what already existed from here to there. He frowned, not being able to decide one way or another. He would know for sure within a few hours, after he had some renewal in strength. For now, he returned to his perch, retrieving one of his books before taking a seat. Every few pages, he would glance up to ensure she was all right. Still breathing. Still peacefully sleeping. Still living. She stirred only once when the guards were particularly noisy with the delivery of his lunch. Other than that, she was at last content.

Loki waited until after his dinner before attempting to breach the barrier again. He was fearful that should someone discover this newfound blessing, they’d find someway to take it away. As the lights finally dimmed, the process began again. The second time was easier, as if the hole had already been worn through and only needed to be broken open again. This time he did it in half the time and thankfully with half the strain. His clone reappeared, accompanied by more solid food: some fruits and breads. He was only hopeful she could eat it.

Leaning over her, he brushed her hair away from her face. Her complexion looked considerably better, though her cheekbones were still more prominent than before. “Naomi?” he asked quietly. She stirred briefly. “I brought you something to eat.” She didn’t verbally respond, but her eyes flickered and she further adjusted. “Can you sit up?” She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. Slowly, methodically, she pulled herself up one painstaking inch at a time until she was slumped against the tiny headboard.

Looking her over again, he quickly decided solid food was still going to be a challenge. He wasn’t even sure she was aware of him – or the fact that it was him anyway. Had she known, he assumed she wouldn’t have been quite so receptive. As her eyes finally opened, for the first time in days, he was greeted with a very obvious fog. Their brown color was dulled and they weren’t focused on anything in particular. It amazed him that she was even conscious. She smiled weakly as she stared in his general direction. He sat down opposite her, poking through the fruit assortment. Pears, he decided. They were the softest and by far the easiest to swallow. He pushed a few pieces past her lips and she mindlessly chewed and swallowed without much difficulty.

He fed her three whole pears before she finally seemed full. She curled slightly into the corner, but the discomfort showed in her face. With a small space opened up, he squished in beside her, allowing her to rest against him instead of the rigid and most likely uncomfortable headboard. “Thank you,” she breathed quietly against his sleeve. The sound of her voice had almost startled him, having not heard it at full strength for such a long time. Though this time it was still quiet and hoarse from disuse. “Thank you, Loki.” Perhaps she was aware of him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she moaned softly. “Tired.”

“Hungry?” he inquired, half joking.

“No,” she said, almost smiling as she nestled further into his sleeve.

Loki nearly laughed, imagining how under normal circumstances she would have somehow thrown that remark back in his face. He gently entangled his hand in her hair, twirling the strands around his fingers. She sighed and for a moment he thought she’d fallen asleep, until she suddenly adjusted, her eyes open again. “My mother used to do that,” she noted, her tone more somber than before.

“What?”

“My hair – she used to play with it whenever she could reach it.” She reached back, her fingers barely brushing against his. But they mine as well have passed through him. “She always did it when I was sick.” She sighed again, her stare reaching to some far corner of the room, though he assumed she saw something very different than the emptiness that surrounded them.

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost my phone.” Not quite the response he’d been expecting. She pushed herself up a bit as if to look for it in her bizarre state of delirium. Having identified most of the objects she’d been afforded, he had to assume it was the only one he’d yet to put a name to. He reached under the cot, careful not to disturb her too much. After a moment, he found the little black rectangle. He turned it over in his hands – a screen of glass surrounded by plastic. She plucked it from his hand, quickly tapping a button on the bottom and the device came to life, suddenly a glow as her fingers slid across the screen.

He watched as she panned through its contents, not sure of what she was trying to do. She didn’t seem quite coherent enough to be accomplishing much of anything. But after a while, she seemed to settle on one activity in particular. Her thumb pulled numerous pictures across the screen, one at a time. Over her shoulder he could see the photographs and their occupants – people he obviously shouldn’t recognize. There were a few in which she resided, smiling happily among other figures very similar in appearance to her. Every few photos she would pause and stare for a moment and flip through a few more. He thought he heard her sniffle. And then he was sure when she started to sob.

“Are you all right?” She nodded silently, continuing through the pictures. “Is this your family?” he asked as another picture passed. Again, she nodded, quickly smothering another sob. “Tell me about them,” he said, pulling the phone to where he could better see it.

She flipped past a few photos and then stopped when she found the one she was looking for. “These are my parents,” she explained. “My mom, she owns a little shoppe back home and my dad, he works for the government. This picture was from their anniversary last year. Me and my sister made them a special dinner, but we almost burned the house down in the process.” She cracked a small smile and then looked for another picture. “That’s the hair thing.”

Loki peered at the photo she showed him. It was her, though several years younger and with the woman she identified as her mother. True enough, her hand was tangled deep in her curly hair. But not _her_ hair? “Your hair is rainbow.” It was more of a question. Her wavy locks were patterned in stripes of every color. It was a design more fitting of the bifrost and not a woman’s hair.

“Yeah,” she responded simply, not elaborating any further. She flipped through a few more photos. “These are my sisters,” she continued, pointing to another pair of figures. And this one photo took her attention for a little while longer. “Gwen and Evelyn,” she commented at last. “Gwen is eight years older than me, but Evelyn and I are only two years apart. I was the middle child,” she pointed out with a grim smile. “I was supposed to be the peacekeeper – the one that held us all together.” So much remorse in so few words. He thought to inquire, but as she continued to stare at the old photo, she elaborated of her own accord. “My older sister hates me,” she said matter-of-factly. “We were close for such a long time – all three of us. But she drifted away from us. She would yell and scream at me and tell me it was my fault. She blamed me for all of her problems. ‘Everything was perfect until you came along.’ She was so angry and upset and jealous of something I didn’t have. She got involved with the wrong people. She did drugs. She was arrested. She tore the entire family apart. And all I could do was _try_ and hold us together. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.

And then she was gone. It all happened so fast. One moment there was this huge fight and the next everyone had gone their separate ways. Evelyn went off to college on the other side of the country. My parents left the home I grew up in. Gwen probably ended up in prison. No one’s heard from her since.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m alone.” Her voice finally cracked, sobs threatening to overwhelm her again. “I’m all alone.”

“No. No. You’re not alone.”

“Things will never be the same again. Everyday I tell myself that I want to go home, but it’s not there anymore. And now I’m here,” she sobbed, looking at their dank and decrepit surroundings. “And I’m going to die here all alone and no one will ever find me.”

He tugged her closer, shushing her quietly until she calmed again. “Rest easy, my dear. You’re safe now. I promise.” He took the phone from her and set it aside. When her sobs subsided, she was very quickly off to sleep again, tear-stained face buried in his shirt.

Her admission was almost startling. Not so much for its content, but more because she was willing to make such an admission in the first place. She had been so brash – so secretive and closed off. But in times of weakness, people don’t hide. They don’t censor themselves. They speak honestly and with their truest emotions. Her strength, her attitude, was only a way of masking this hopelessness – the thought that she would die in here, never to see her family again. A family she already assumed to have deserted her. It was not so difficult to imagine. Now more than ever, he missed her stubborn attitude and her unending wit. He wished she would argue and taunt and yell and scream, but not this. Not this.

Loki’s chest further knotted and he was sure by now the ache would never fade. Even as her sobs receded and the only sound was her quiet breath against his shoulder, her words repeated themselves over and over again, but this time in a very different voice. This time, it was Thor’s. _We were raised together. We played together. We fought together! Do you remember none of that?_ Of course he remembered with a sneer. It was a span of his memory several centuries long. Thousands upon thousands of childish squabbles and years of idiotic conflict. With Thor, every trivial matter came down to war. Wars from which he always emerged victorious. He sought violence and mayhem and chaos for the sole sake of basking in the glory that would assuredly follow. And even though it was paired none too often with a stern scolding that he had the misfortunate of beholding, he’d be on his merry way soon after. Sooner still to repeat the cycle again. And all the while, he stood in the backdrop, at the curb of his brother’s existence. The true heir to the throne of Asgard. So he remembered a shadow.

 _But it wasn’t always like that,_ Loki thought wordlessly. There had been a time – a time when the throne was only a dream or the object of a childhood game. A time when both were born to be kings, before the reality set in that there could be only one. He remembered the carefree aura that seemed to surround everything. They were only boys, pretending to be stronger and older and wiser. But in reality, only children. They were still going through schooling – Thor would have recalled it, more likely, as being _dragged_ through it. Loki appreciated it to some degree, though the affinity for knowledge in any field other than that of battle, was lacking in his older brother. While Thor spent hours outside chopping straw filled heads off of wooden posts, he was cooped up in the deepest reaches of the palace buried deep in his spell books. His mother’s most precious gift.

For a time, it was also the bane of his existence. Sei∂r was only for witches and wise men, they’d taunted. Endlessly. The old and the weak and the useless. So he retreated, vanishing into one of his many hideaways for days on end. The longest was nearly two weeks. But it had been Thor who came looking for him. “Mother’s worried sick, Loki. We’ve searched the entire palace for you! And while this has been the grandest game of hide and seek in all the Nine Realms, you have to come out now!” Always another jest. “What’s wrong, brother?” a younger Thor asked, noting his morose demeanor. Loki remembered being open with him – a surreal thought since then. “I shall hunt them down then!” he declared. “I shall slay them all for the things they’ve said! You are a Prince of Asgard after all.” But it wasn’t only that. While their words stung, it was mostly this one spell he’d spent the past weeks trying and failing to perfect. And their taunting only further encouraged him to give up. So then Thor shortsightedly volunteered to be his test subject, regardless of the end result.

Loki grinned. It was an interesting attempt, which, long story short, resulted in him spending some quality time as a boar. But the most supportive boar. And, true to his word, he saw that his antagonizers paid their dues, most in the form of horns in a number of painful places.

 _But I blamed him for everything._ He was perfect – perfect by Asgard’s standards. And Loki – he was no more than a blemish upon a perfect record. _The monster parents tell their children about at night._ Naomi was right. Things could never be as they were. _You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream! You come home._ But he could never go home. There wasn’t one to return to. Not anymore. Not after everything he had done.

Naomi exhaled a long breath and slumped further against his shoulder, only when she looked horribly uncomfortable did he finally lay her back down, sitting on the floor beside her cot instead. He watched her, peaceful for now, but not without a shadow of her silent sufferings. He interlaced his fingers with hers and tightened his grip until he himself felt somehow reassured. _You’re not alone anymore, love._

_You’re not alone._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one ma lovelies! All of my huge projects were due today! So for the next three days I am FREE! Let the hardcore Loki costuming and fanfiction writing commence! Fingers crossed that I can get some more chapters finished... lately the time has eluded me...
> 
> It is so endlessly thrilling that there are people out there that look forward to new chapters for this... it blows my mind every time! Many many thanks to all of my followers and reviewers! Teeanks sooooo much! XOXOXOXO
> 
> WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VERY GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE!!!
> 
> It's a small scene that I've already cut down twice and I still think it's pretty graphic... so just be warned...
> 
> And as you may have guessed already... Loki gets a little revenge...

Naomi recovered very gradually, one painstaking day at a time. After almost a week, she snacked on the solid food he brought her and while she seemed much better, she was still in this fog and she slept for much of the day. He wondered more than once if she would ever be herself again. But the few times she managed a smile or an incoherent jest, he knew she was still in there somewhere. So he sat back quietly and let her recuperate of her own accord.

For now she was sleeping, full and content, under the warm and heavy wool blanket he’d procured for her. Though she didn’t voice it, he could tell she was infinitely grateful with the way she curled into it and tucked it under her chin, burying her face in the fabric. The effect it had was like that of chloroform, the scent keeping her submerged in a deep and peaceful sleep. So for the first time in over a week he wasn’t strung up with worry. Of course, without being actively occupied, that nagging shame slipped back in, biting at the back of his neck. What more must he do to be free of this madness? He was basically nursing this woman back to health and still, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. It was infuriating. She couldn’t get better soon enough.

Loki looked up from one of his old spell books when Naomi suddenly stirred. She turned over, tugging the blanket even tighter around her if it was possible – an omen for something worth hiding from.

He heard the voice of a young woman just beyond the doors – the young woman who served him more often then not. She wasn’t in distress, but she wasn’t thrilled with whatever was taking place out there. The door swung open and he caught one string of dialogue as she was – by the sound of it – shoved aside. Two guards stepped inside. One was carrying the tray of food, which had no doubt been appropriated from the young servant, and the other simply holding the flank to ensure she didn’t attempt to return for it. And it was the two guards he never wanted to see again – or did he?

The guard – Naomi’s attacker – came down the stairs at a more even and measured gait than before, with all drunkenness gone from him now. He strode with the authority of his title, carelessly carrying the tray, but the tarnished nature of his status was clear as he tossed it to the floor where the well-prepared meal was splattered against the stone where it met the glass. Loki didn’t flinch, but he felt his blood boil against his inherently frigid pedigree. Oh yes, he wanted to see this man again. Amends would be made today. He felt his inner-self smiling like a madman.

Naomi turned over again, her back now facing the guard who stared hungrily into her cell. And Loki watched and waited for him to choose his inevitable fate. He stepped forward and gazed at her sleeping form, more than likely reminiscing of the horrific encounter. _Come back for more, have you? Come and get it. I_ dare _you._ The guard took the subconscious provocation and stepped through the parting pane of glass. One slow step at a time, he crossed the cell, his eyes longingly travelling over her. He reached for her, his lips parting for some sentiment or sneer. He stood straight quite abruptly when Loki pressed a finger to his lips as a long, silencing hiss rushed past them. “Careful. You wouldn’t want to wake her,” he whispered, his grin barely restrained. His voice was like a gentle _tisk_ of discouragement. “I must insist that her rest remain uninterrupted.”

The guard turned, rising to his subtle taunt. “She does seem much more beautiful in sleep – a lot less trouble. Though I do miss the sounds she made.” He was chilled to even imagine it. Even muffled through ice, those sounds were clear enough. And he could never forget. “Suppose she even enjoyed it?”

“I doubt that very severely.”

“And why would you doubt that? Do you think her so prude? You hid behind your sei∂r as you always have. You didn’t see what I saw.”

Loki didn’t wait for elaboration. To hear anything of his perspective would bring an indefinite end to his sanity. “The sounds of you mauling her like an animal were unmistakable with or without my skills. I didn’t need to watch to know the type of brute you are. You would suffocate your whores as soon as fall asleep on them.” The guard came forward in a sudden huff. _So easily provoked._ “Fortunately, she escaped with only mental trauma and slow healing scars.”

“Fortunately? Is that a hint of genuine concern, I hear? From the God of Lies?”

“Fortunately, for you,” he amended with a smile.

The guard frowned with a very sharp spike of fear, before he smothered it in empty threats and a boisterous show of non-existent power. “You think yourself so righteous! You walk and talk like you are entitled to everything! But you are nothing more than a captive – a prisoner. You’ve nothing to hold over my head and I will do to her as a please. And there’s not a thing you can do about it!”

 _I should have done something – I_ will _do something._ So this time he watched. He watched as his mirror image wrapped a hand around him, mouth smothered, neck drawn back and exposed. And then he poised his blade against the pulse of his throat. Loki smiled seeing the panic flare in his eyes and the realization of who held the real power among them. Underestimated yet again. Squirming and twisting, Loki had him completely pinned against the glass. “You will _never_ touch her again,” Loki breathed, coming to meet him at the glass. The guard nodded against his hold, his breath heavy through his nostrils. And he believed that hint of assurance – of promise – would save him. Loki laughed. “And I’m going to make certain of it.” The guard gave a shallow cry, muffled by his duplicate’s grip on his jaw. If he had even an inkling what he was in for, he should beg. He should _scream_. “Suppose you might even enjoy it?”

Loki could feel his victim’s heart pounding in his chest, the blood rushing under the sharp edge of his blade. He drew the tip along his collarbone, blood escaping in its wake, crawling in tendrils under the hem of his shirt. How generous of him to come without his armor. He traced the bone with one long, deep line until he saw the beige surface beneath the skin. There was the scream, though nearly muted by his hand. But the sound made him shiver.

He thought about Naomi. He thought about the pain she’d suffered. That cold, utterly defeated look in her eyes was forever ingrained in his memory. He thought about how that single horrific occurrence had utterly ruined her. This man had stolen and destroyed the brash, stubborn, carefree woman he’d known. Now, how could he convey how he felt about that?

Scarlet stained knife now poised against his Adam’s apple, Loki thoughtfully eyed his visibly pulsating jugular. He licked his lips and offered the guard a long, toothy grin. “If I had it my way,” he whispered, “I would see that you suffer an eternity and a half before you finally die. I would see you gutted and skinned a thousand times over, but I won’t risk your return. I made the mistake of allowing you the opportunity to harm her before, but never again.”

Loki stared into his widening blue eyes, reveling in his terror. The skin split and the blood finally escaped as he pierced the artery. His projection dragged the blade down, following the trail all the way back down his neck. His blood dripped rhythmically to the floor, forming a puddle and soon a small lake; his last few heartbeats splattered the glass. And then his eyes turned steely and gray and lifeless. And beautiful. Then his body hung limp in his arms. His clone stood stark still with the body still hanging in his grasp, as Loki’s eyes met those of their onlooker. The other guard. He hadn’t moved. He had reached the foot of the stairs at some point, but hadn’t gone any further. Not after watching Loki’s little atrocity – his little act of revenge. Loki went back to his chair, relaxing, projecting his thoughts back into his doppelganger. He walked up to the edge of the cell, pushing the dead guard closer until the barrier parted along with the glass. And then he let him drop out onto the stone.

“Consider this your only warning,” he said, the duplicate vanishing. “If you ever return here, you’ll see a fate far worse than his. Now take your friend and go.” The other guard eyed the corpse, continuing to bleed out on the floor.

“What shall I do with him?” the other man meekly asked.

Loki’s eyes flashed open. “Dispose of him! Burn him! Dismember him and feed him to the hounds! Drop him off the edge of the bifrost! I don’t care what becomes of his bloody corpse; he no longer has use of it and neither do I.”

He scurried cautiously forward, eyes on Loki’s feet to avoid his gaze. He grabbed his dead friend, hauling him over his shoulder before hurrying up the stairs without another word. Loki grinned when he caught the look of revulsion as it passed over his face along with a sudden loss of color. Before he reached the top, he would be coated in the remains of his friend, the stench and stain imbedded in his clothes. And he would live with the knowledge that he helped make it possible. Each received their just reward from what they did to her and for the first time since this ordeal began, he felt his gut unclench as some form of relief set in. He had guaranteed her safety – from the guards at least. If all went well, rumors would spread and all of the palace staff would know better than to come anywhere near her again. She was _his._ And no such harm would ever befall her again.

With their silence restored, he felt better. Infinitely better. Were she conscious on some level – or the level he wished she was – she would not have approved but she would have been grateful. Or so he hoped. But more than likely, she would still see him as the monster he was. All he remembered was the look on her face that night – the last night she spoke to him. _You didn’t do anything. You just stood there._ No matter what he said or thought or did, the fault stuck with him. He only hoped he had somehow made amends for it. She was one of the few people whose company he had actually come to appreciate. He’d only come to that conclusion when she nearly disappeared. It was both odd and incredible, this notion of attachment. No. It wasn’t attachment. To this day, he still had no name for it. But it remained a comforting luxury in the swirling silence of this endless captivity.

He waited a few moments – but only a few moments – before he joined her again. With their lunch splattered all over the floor, they wouldn’t be bothered for at least a few hours. But it also meant he wouldn’t be able to feed her anything until tonight. But she would manage, he thought, especially after surviving several weeks without it. For now, she would sleep.

Loki sat down at the head of her cot, tugging her into his lap. She responded as she had every time since he managed his way in here, drowsily curling into his lap without even waking up. She whined when she accidentally pressed her cheek too hard against his chest. The bruise beneath her eye was still a deep purple. At this point, her inability to chew anything more solid than pears had more to do with the fracture to her eye and less with her state of consciousness. He secured a hand underneath her chin and turned her head so it wasn’t bumped. Looking it over more closely, he wished his magic wasn’t so limited so that he could just heal her. The swelling was coming back again. Well, there was one thing he could do for her.

His hand faded from his Æsir coloration to that unholy shade of blue. The genial markings of his mother world returned and with them the cold. His fingertips grazed the swell in her cheek and she shuddered, tugging the blanket tighter. But once he’d contained the cold to the area of inflammation, she seemed content. The cool penetrated her skin until it was pleasurably numb, or so he thought since she tried to snuggle her face against him again.

With cool hands, he cataloged the many bumps and breaks and bruises – one day soon he would see her whole again. He ran his hand down her arm. Her elbow was a tad askew and her wrist had a tiny break as well. The force with which the guard had grabbed her would not have been enough to seriously harm another Æsir but as a mortal, she was so, so fragile. That simple jerking motion and the blow to follow had managed to throw her entire arm out of whack. The other arm had only seen some minor bruising thankfully. When the swelling subsided with the cold, he moved on again.

Pulling the blanket aside, he quickly examined the rest of her. Her thighs were bruised where she’d been grabbed. And her hip as well – though that may have been fractured. He tried to feel for it, running his hand across the overly-defined bone. He frowned as his hand ghosted her skin – skin he imagined so soft and warm – but he could never know. Not like this.

He looked himself over as if something had changed. But nothing had changed. Things were just as they had been. Tangible but senseless. Whole enough to make contact but still hollow. It was a fight to see through his surrogate’s eyes. No matter how close he was she always seemed distant. Her voice, sometimes he could hear it from where he sat in his own cell, but when he couldn’t, it was only an echo through his doppelganger’s ears – a shadow of what it had been. But touch – anything remotely tactile was non-existent. He felt _nothing_.

Loki opened his eyes, his clone mindlessly continuing its crusade. _It’s such a horrible irony. I have always been seen as so unfeeling and now I don’t have a choice._ But he watched from his perch as she burrowed against him, so obviously comforted in spite of that. Comforted by his presence – his touch. However unfeeling _he_ had to be. It would be worth it, he thought, his mind travelling back to the clone. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking it in around her. It would only be a few hours until the dinner delivery required his retreat. But for now it was enough.

He ran his fingers through her hair, imagining the soft curls between his fingertips. His knuckles brushed against the soft line of her jaw and she nestled her cheek to it. He shuddered and he couldn’t even feel it. And he almost felt the smile he saw as it pulled upon her lips. For now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADA! And holy crap! It's not a cliff hanger! I'm usually terrible with those... Teeanks so much for reading! I love all of you nice people! xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This freaking chapter... was an absolute jigsaw of dialogue. I have rearranged it so many times I don't even know what it looked like to start O.o
> 
> But it's done. Or as done as it will ever be! I was going to post this like an hour ago but there was a picture of Loki in a collar and I got really distracted. Marvel is just watching the fandom squirm with all of this nonsense...
> 
> But while we're all stuck patiently waiting for this freaking movie... have fun with a new chapter ma lovelies!

Naomi awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright so fast her head was spinning for a long time afterward. When her eyes finally refocused on the world around her, it took her a very long moment to even remember where she was, let alone how she’d gotten there and what the heck had happened. _I’m still here?_ Once the memories began to refill themselves, it made sense that she was still here. She had absolutely no memory of an escape. Thinking about it, there were a lot of missing memories. In attempting to recall the night before, there was nothing. Locked in a tiny room with no daylight to discern the passage of time, it was impossible to know.

She ducked under her cot and pulled out her phone. The battery was nearly dead, but the date and time were still clearly displayed. The date of her kidnapping stuck well, thankfully. But then – that didn’t add up. She carefully counted the tallies etched into the stone. There was more than a week’s worth of time unaccounted for. _How is that possible?_ Even after a double and a triple check – she couldn’t place all the days she had missed. What the heck had happened? After a moment or two, a few things filtered back. Sweet nothings of boredom and strong words. And pain. _Oh my god._ A vision – a vivid nightmare – of two guards. _Oh my god. I was – I was – and all this time – I can’t remember._ She felt suddenly sick, imagining all that could have gone on. An entire week.

Her eyes darted around the room. Nothing new. Nothing new. And then her eyes locked on a very large bloodstain on the floor across the cell. The glass had drips, dark and dry like the aged pool on the floor. _Oh my god. Oh my god. What happened? What happened!_

Stumbling terribly, she charged into the bathroom, bracing the rim of the sink. She heaved into it, very quickly losing the contents of her stomach. Once her nauseated innards had calmed, she rinsed out her mouth and splashed the cool water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her with empty eyes as the beads of water rolled down her face, catching in her eyebrows and stinging her eyes along with the familiar laceration beneath it. Her skin was so pale from the lack of sun and she felt almost skeletal after so many long days without food. Naomi frowned, peering into the watered down contents of the sink. There was most certainly food in there. She could taste it on her tongue, despite the rinse.

She wandered back out of the bathroom, still toweling off her face. She had absolutely no memory of eating and yet her stomach didn’t ache with hunger. Of course, her appetite had completely disappeared in the last few minutes. What the heck had happened? _Loki._ The thought slipped into her mind and she felt instantly better, though she had no idea why. Last she recalled, he stood by and let her be raped. Glancing into his cell, she was greeted with another unfamiliar sight. Her unusually stoic prison companion was laid out on the floor as if he’d collapsed there, halfway between the pane of glass and his bed. What the heck had happened?

All of the sudden he stirred, waking nearly as suddenly as she had, startled awake by something she hadn’t heard or seen. He sat up, his entire spine creaking with pain. Before he looked even coherent enough to form logical thought, his gaze focused into her cell, first toward her empty cot and then on her. He was panicked and completely relieved within the span of a few seconds. She saw exhaustion in his beautiful green eyes – a deeply ingrained weariness that hadn’t been there before. “Are you all right?” he finally asked, his voice cracking to match his haggard exterior. The sincerity was a new one too. She nodded, her expression barely shifting from her usual guarded curiosity. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up and about so soon.” Naomi only continued to stare. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

What smile he had slowly vanished. “You were sick,” he said quietly. “You were starving – _dying_.” She could barely recall. The last thing she remembered was just another day in this cell – hungry, but to what degree she wasn’t sure. Had it really gotten so bad? Several weeks was a long time to not eat. Her hands touched her stomach and she could easily outline each of her ribs in detail. She could actually identify where a few of them had cracked in her horrible encounter. The fracture to her elbow just as evident. Her fingers traced her collarbones and sternum. The ridges of the bones. Loki spoke the truth. And if he did, her body would have gone into survival mode – it would’ve shut down and slowly turned upon itself. And yet, she was alive now, feeling better than she had in days.

“They did eventually feed me,” she morbidly joked.

Loki looked far less than amused. “No. They didn’t. They were going to let you die.” His tone gave her chills. “I can hardly fathom why they would go to the trouble of bringing you here if only to let you starve to death.”

“So what happened to me?”

Loki frowned deeply. “You don’t remember anything do you?”

Naomi watched as he sunk further and further into despair. Suddenly she felt sick again. He didn’t explain. He gave no elaboration at all, just scooted back into his usual spot and his usual funk. She sat down at the edge of her cot without making a sound, watching out of the corner of her eye, hoping maybe he’d say something more. Except he said nothing. Nothing at all.

Lunch came and went, proving Loki’s claim. Either they sought to see her dead or they simply didn’t care. Loki retained his state of unresponsiveness the entire time the guards were present and long after they had gone. He only sat there, head leaned against the wall, staring at the insides of his eyelids. The same was true of dinner. They replaced his food, completely untouched.

He had a tendency to sulk but this time it seemed more serious than before. And she couldn’t remember enough to know why.

It should have been obvious, she thought. If her captors hadn’t saved her, then someone else had. She glanced at Loki again. But he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. _Would he?_   He was cruel and oh-so-willing to see her suffer – she glanced at him again. It certainly didn’t seem that way now. She lay back in her cot, clenching her eyes shut, trying to remember the many long days she had missed. Naomi had practically put herself to sleep before something came back to her. Panic and desperation and then eventually relief. Sustenance. A caretaker. Comfort in a place she didn’t think it could exist. She felt herself lulled to sleep, curled up, hands fisted in the fabric of someone’s shirt. She had barely been conscious for that entire time, it’s a wonder she remembered anything at all. _Thank you, Loki._ His large hand, slightly cooler than the rest of him, wrapped gently around her own.

_“You’re going to be safe now. I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”_

She opened her eyes again.

He saved her. Loki, this acclaimed god, this slaughter hungry felon, had saved her. _Could it be possible?_ After everything that happened – after the things he’d said – was it possible? As much as he seemed disconnected from the whole of it, his concern was genuine. Heartfelt even. Her legs hung over the edge of the cot as she glanced into his cell to where he still sat on the floor. He had saved her. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend how but he – of all people – had saved her.

Naomi rolled over, carefully avoiding her injured arm. Loki still sat against the wall. Still unmoving, she wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Naomi cleared her throat, hoping maybe to get his attention. Not even the quirk of an eyebrow. He was looking almost as frail as she was – without movement he looked dead. But a shadow of him still existed in her subconscious, one that was kinder and gentler than she would have ever guessed. Arms wrapped around herself, she wandered toward that single pane of glass. “Did you save me?” she asked quietly. There might have been a fraction of a response. His shoulder may have twitched. “Loki?” Nothing. “I feel like I remember certain things, but I don’t know if they happened or not.” Loki finally looked up, eyes hollow and empty but more notably tired. “Did you save me?”

“If that is how you choose to see it.”

“Thank you – I’m not sure how you did it, but thank you.”

“This place does not become you, Naomi. You deserve far better than a life in captivity, despite what I said before.”

“How do you know my name?”

“You told it to me.” That, as well, was only a shadow in her subconscious. “You were dying – and I wasn’t sure if I could save you. I thought it best to at least know your name before-” He didn’t finish.

“Why did you do it?” The question surprised him. “Obviously, you didn’t have to. What did you have to gain? Why save me? I mean – after last time, I thought-”

“I’m not proud of what happened the last time,” he said quickly.

“Then why?”

That answer eluded him slightly longer. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “I am just so sorry for what was done to you. And that alone for me is remarkable. But since that night it has been sickening to think about. I should have done something and I’m sorry.” An apology past his lips sounded as unnatural as he thought it did. “And then I saw you getting sick – starving.” Loki shook his head. “You have heart – and you’re strong. I am the god of lies and treachery and deceit. My sense of honor is nearly non-existent and I hold no code of conduct. But I was not about to sit here and watch you die that way.” He stared at her almost in admiration. How could she have so harshly misjudged him? “And besides, I haven’t had anyone worth conversing with in a long time. It would have hurt too much to see you go. It was more than worth my strength to see you safe and healthy again.”

She could only stare for a moment, the reality of his confession not totally settled yet. As soon as the tiniest bit of it made sense to her, she was pleasantly shocked. “Thank you, Loki.”

He grinned weakly, sitting up against the wall. “It was my pleasure, love.”

More of her half-imagined foggy thoughts slipped through her consciousness. His long fingers sliding through her thick curly hair, ghosting the back of her neck. She recalled a cold sweat, blotted lightly from her forehead. His tender, loving care for so many long nights. A promise of protection. Whisperings of freedom. A soft kiss on her temple. She quirked an eyebrow as she smothered a tiny blush. “How did you get in here?” In all of her half-formed images of him, never had that pane of glass been involved. It was just him. In the flesh. However impossible it seemed.

A wry grin crossed his face and then he closed his eyes as a pained look overtook him. She was moderately concerned for a moment before he appeared in the cell beside her. It was a serious fight not to jump out of her skin. She looked him over in person, taking note of the fact the Loki she’d been speaking to hadn’t moved. He still sat there, concentration ingrained in his features. “Just like that,” he said, his voice sounding slightly strained.

Naomi circled him, looking him up and down. They were very obviously the same person, but still vastly different. His hair was tamed and only half as curly, but the same raven black. His garb was particularly more expensive looking, a mix of deep green and gold. Real gold. Overall, his demeanor seemed better and his façade was infinitely more regal. She didn’t know if he was a god, but if aura was anything to consider, he certainly could be. “Astral projection?” she asked.

“Not exactly.” She reached out to him, with the intention to poke him – the illusion option still a possibility. But he quickly snagged her hand, his cold skin sending chills up her arm. “It’s a bit more tangible than that.” The voice came from his clone this time, the melodic tone resonating in his chest. She felt it in the very marrow of her bones. And his hand – no sooner had he spoke, did his firm and assertive hold conform to a cool and gentle caress, his fingertips barely brushing the back of her hand. She felt another wave of chills as she found her mind urging her to yank her hand away. But she quickly centered her thoughts again.

“I thought you said your magic didn’t work outside your cell.”

“The cell that contains us is surrounded by a barrier that prevents my magic from escaping. I only recently discovered that the enchantment is weaker between us. It’s enough,” he added. He took her other hand, but only a moment before his touch trailed up her arms – one hand over her shoulder until he’d worked his fingers into the hair on the back of her neck. Her entire body shook but whether from fear or desire, she couldn’t be sure. His stare was painfully intense and she only broke it to glance at Loki still sitting in his cell. The longer she watched him, the heavier the weight on him became. She saw him twitch with all of his muscles pulled taut. His every movement looked pained. “You’re safe now. And I will never let anyone harm you again.”

She felt the assurance in his grip – the lightest tug on the nape of her neck, his lips almost forming a smile. The same tired smile she’d seen before. But this time his eyes spoke of sadness and longing, those glassy emerald pools glistening with something she hadn’t seen in him before. Even if it was somehow familiar. The hand that gently massaged the back of her neck was soothing – but at the same time disconcerting. He tilted her head back leaving her neck thoughtlessly exposed. “Loki-” she breathed, her voice starting to shake as well. She could feel his breath against her cheek as he leaned closer again, his eyes half lidded, but this new notion of longing was ever present. It warmed her. Somewhere. Some place she couldn’t quite reach. But as his cheek brushed the column of her throat and his lips were just barely pressed against her skin, she fumbled out of his embrace, panic superseding everything else.

Her entire body still shook as her heart raced and she clumsily found her cot again before she collapsed. She found herself staring at a very rumpled pile of sheets across the room, remembering what she’d hoped to forget and still forgetting what she wished she could remember. She curled inward, her mind attempting to hole itself up where it wouldn’t be found as the panic – induced by memories still so jarring – coursed through her so fast that for a moment she saw nothing but darkness until the world came into focus again.

“Naomi?” Loki called again – quietly – cautiously. “Naomi?”

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes still wide and lost and terrified. But Loki had retreated, his duplicate form standing nearly on the other side of the cell, while the real Loki was standing only a breath away from the glass watching her with the same panicked stare. She pinched her eyes shut, trying to swallow the anxiety, only to have it stick in her throat. “Are you all right?”

Naomi managed a nod after a moment, without being terribly reassuring. She glanced at the discarded sheets again. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Loki said. “I only thought-” She watched him shift uncomfortably, his gaze now centered on the floor. His hands twisted with one another and she watched as the real Loki’s brow further furrowed. “I’m sorry.”

The hurt in his voice was tangible in spite of who she had previously assumed him to be. She remembered their last conversation. The concern had been there, but at the time, she’d been too humiliated and traumatized to take notice of it. But for someone who was supposedly the God of Lies, his sincerity was heartbreaking. “Don’t be sorry.”

“No. I mean it.” All softness disappeared from his voice then, swiftly replaced with a gruff undertone she did very clearly remember. His eyes looked her over again and then found the ruined sheets she’d been staring at. “I should have done something. What happened to you – I let it happen. And since then I have blamed myself for it. I can’t escape it. I can’t escape any of it! But this more than anything. I did this to you.”

His gaze finally settled across the cell, on the bloodstain she was still ignorantly unsettled by. “You – by some means – have gotten under my skin. Though it sickens me to admit it.” He slowly approached her again, caution clear in his step. “I feel so protective of you,” he admitted. “Before – when you were sick – you were different – different with me.” There was another wave of memories, the tide drawing them closer to the surface. His protection. His closeness. His touch. And her own unconscious acceptance of it. But it wasn’t solely acceptance. “But I suppose you can think more clearly now,” Loki continued.

 _Not exactly._ If anything, clarity had deserted her even further. The entire world was foggy and not a single thing made sense. It was all half-remembered and misplaced and out of order. She remembered his comfort. She knew, without a doubt it was there, but for now it was masked by the horrors that preceded it. But it wasn’t his fault. None of this was his fault.

“That’s not fair,” she replied rather roughly. “That’s not fair to either of us. I – I can barely remember twenty minutes ago. Forgive me for being a little lost and a little _fucking_ confused. Whatever happened – I don’t regret it. You saved my life and I’m grateful, but it wasn’t your fault. It was not your fault. None of it.” She still saw the defeat and imagined rejection, pooling like dark circles under his eyes. She stood and approached him, and then with as little hesitancy as she could manage, she wrapped her arms around his neck and just stood there, hoping he would understand. She owed him this much.

 After a long moment, his body relaxed with a long and tired sigh. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, but she noted how his hands didn’t touch her. Not this time. And of that she was silently thankful. _Not yet. Just not yet._

“I just need a little more time, okay?” He hushed her. That cool wisp of air against the shell of her ear.

“It’s all right,” he conceded at last. His hand unwrapped from her waist, his wrist making a long fluid motion until some kind of pastry appeared. “Eat. Rest. And get better.” He tucked whatever it was into her hand and gave her one final squeeze. “Goodnight, Naomi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! A little glimpse of the Naomi we used to know. And Loki continuing to be confused and irritable and all that other Loki stuff...
> 
> The next chapter is unfortunately not reading and awaiting editing like those in the past... I actually have to write them this time... So I have no idea when they next one will be posted. I pray within a week but I sort of have this research paper that I should be writing... prepare to witness the epitome of procrastination! And in all fairness, Loki was here first.
> 
> Until next time! Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One week on the dot. Isn't that a freaking miracle? I was so sure this one wasn't going to be done anytime in the near future. Stupid chapter... sits there for a week and then all of the sudden writes itself... / adsdftcnscbsufnfj! You... stupid story and your stupid everything...
> 
> That's saying nothing for all this Thor 2 stuff... THE FUDGE! MY FEELS ARE BEING DESTROYED AND THE MOVIE ISN'T EVEN OUT YET! Loki screaming... don't even get me started... O.O
> 
> Okay... rant over... ENJOY!

Loki waited for her to settle again before he even thought about sleep. He retreated back into his own space, curling into his chair, too tired to even read. But he waited. She sat at the edge of her cot, nibbling without comment on the food he had given her. And after she’d done away with most of it, she finally went to sleep, wrapping herself up in her blanket with a quiet sigh. He mirrored her relief-filled exhale as he finally dropped into his own bed. He fumbled briefly with the sheets before giving up completely and just flopping onto his back. The ceiling was a lovely view so long as his body was free to relax against a mattress. And not the floor, which had been the case more than once in the past few weeks.

His mind drifted but sleep still eluded him, so he was simply dragged along by his erratic train of thought. But he knew ultimately where it would lead. For weeks, even without consciousness, she commanded his attention. And try as he might to put her aside – to ignore her or escape her for even a moment – it always came back to her. _Naomi._

Tonight had not been the smooth transition to the waking world that he had hoped for. It had never occurred to him that in her foggy state of mind she might not remember anything. She had taken so much comfort in his presence for all those nights, but without any forethought or logic, she didn’t have time to consider that she had curled into the lap of a frost giant – that with that alone she had taken her life into her own hands. How easily could he have done to her what he did to the guards? How easily could he have done to her what those mindless animals had done to her? _The monster parents tell their children about at night._

It hurt, like a wolf had made a meal of his heart, to recall her receptive, adoring self, but see the fear that struck her when he got too close. No closer than they had been before, but she knew better now – knew that he couldn’t be trusted. Even in her short and voluntary embrace, he felt her heart race against his own. She was afraid. A fraction of her panic attack before, but still measurable terror. And rightly so. He could hardly place his own intent in this situation and he couldn’t trust himself not to harm her. Because that was where every road ended for him. Pain and disappointment. _The monster parents tell their children about at night._

But Naomi didn’t seem to see it that way. With the way she reacted, it probably had more to do with her last disgustingly intimate encounter. _It was never my intent to make her uncomfortable – and certainly not to scare her._ But he couldn’t resist. Before she had been rather receptive, but now things were different. Her shell of sarcasm and insults got in the way. What happened to her got in the way. _This damn pane of glass is in the way._ But it was more than comforting to see even a glimpse of who she was before all of this. She was still in there somewhere. She just needed a little more time.

 

For a while, it was only wishful thinking that things could be this way. After the utter desertion she felt, she had been more than certain she would die in this place – alone and forgotten. _Alone and forgotten._ His doppelganger disappeared, but Loki was still there. Still present. And still – against her previous expectations – watching over her. He didn’t retreat into his usual solitude. He wasn’t closed off anymore. He meant to protect her, he said so himself. It wasn’t another one of her imagined inferences this time. For whatever reason – regret as it seemed – he cared for her. That thought continued to float around in her head, never quite settling. After tonight – after being shocked into this surreal state of existence – the simplest things made no sense anymore.

Loki flopped into his chair looking dead tired, but he didn’t sleep. He didn’t even get into bed until she had done so first. Once she slipped back into her cot, he finally retired. He all but collapsed into his bed, not even bothering with the sheets. And he was shortly asleep after that.

Surely this was just a dream? _What the heck happened these past few days?_ She wrapped herself tighter in her blanket – the one Loki had obviously gifted to her. How could she even begin to believe all of this? _What the heck could have happened to change him so dramatically?_ He went from this brooding, acerbic, and dejected shell of a person – alien – god – _whatever_ – to being this nurturing caretaker. He had gone from selfish to selfless in an instant with some miraculous change of heart. Surely she was just comatose or something? _Yes, that’s it. I starved to the point of no return and I am simply imagining all of this so that I kick the bucket on a wishfully pleasant note._ That made so much more sense. Of course, if it was all about wish fulfillment, why would she be so determined to prove otherwise?

She rolled over, tugging the blanket over her head, trying not to scream into the upholstery like she so desperately wanted to. First she’d spent weeks trying to prove him something other than the villain and now having proven that theory, she was trying to convince herself this too was all a mask to hide some true and malicious intent. She rolled her eyes, irritated with her own indecisiveness. Her increasingly hypocritical nature – wanting something so desperately only to refuse it when presented with it. That was just stupid.

Recalling their first few days together, she knew exactly how she felt about him, in spite of the front she held – the mask she wore. The mask she needed to survive. He was beautiful and alluring and manically charming, in spite of most likely being some sort of sociopath, and she was drawn to the whole of him like a moth to a flame. And all this time spent trying to justify that illogical attraction and then escape it all together, she suffocated herself in that pit of despair she’d been swimming around in for so long. On top of everything else, it could have killed her this time. Even with clear memory, she knew how sickly she probably became. And in that moment, she felt her unconscious mind willing him away – that she wasn’t worth saving – that she wasn’t worth even the affection she’d imagined of him. And then there was the darkest void in her memory. It should have been an end. It should have been the end of so much pain and torment. An end to their game of hide-and-seek. Good versus evil.

But she woke up.

And not to the hopelessness she remembered. Loki stood there with this inherent need to protect her and care for her, in spite of her cold and unyielding exterior for most of their time down here. Of all the things she had ever expected of him, she had hoped it would never be this. Because in her heart of hearts, she could never resist him now. The horrible person he had previously claimed to be would not be enough anymore. And it was clear now that she had not imagined his affection. Not even slightly. Their previous back and forth dialogue pertaining to such things, she had only spoken in jest – a taunt. _Who are you trying to fool? You did it because you liked it and because you had a pane of glass to protect you._ Which left her all the more terrified to have that obstacle removed. _This is real._

She tried to think what might have been if not for the unpleasant occurrences that led them to this point. If she hadn’t been _raped_ – if that hadn’t happened – if she hadn’t blamed him and fell into her own funk, he might not have saved her. But maybe he would have. She remembered the look in his eyes afterward. Defeat. He tried or wanted to try but didn’t have the means. But she blamed him anyway. All of that brought them here, to this mess of a relationship. But all of that left her here, dropped her here in this vat of untamed space with the memories of what led them here threatening to drown her with panic.

_If I hadn’t been attacked, he wouldn’t show this affection. If I hadn’t been attacked, perhaps I could accept it._

_But I already have?_

The memories were just so damn foggy, but judging by Loki’s sudden dejection, maybe she already had. His comfort was a vague sensation, but a recognizable one. There was no panic then. There had been no thought – no over-thinking to get in the way.

She pushed the blanket off of her head, glancing into Loki’s cell. He was barely visible past the foot of the bed, other than something vaguely resembling his mop of wavy black hair. She lay out on her back, twiddling her fingers in her lap, her nagging curiosity finally getting the better of her. “Are you awake?” she asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence.

She heard him sigh after a moment. “You should be asleep.”

“I’m not tired. What are you my mother?”

He laughed before his voice settled back into its sleepy state. “I am endlessly happy to have you back, darling.”

She smiled, staring smittenly at the ceiling. “How was I different?” she asked after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“Before, when I was sick, you said I was different. What was different?”

“You were more open,” he spoke into the empty space with something sounding like nostalgia.

No pain. No panic. Barely conscious thought. That was a dangerous notion. “We didn’t do anything weird right?”

She heard his smile and a mostly silent laugh. “No,” he assured her, obviously aware of her concern. “You were babbling indiscriminately for a bit, if that constitutes _weird_.”

Naomi breathed a silent sigh of relief. “No. I suppose I’ve done weirder things before.” She sat up, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. Peering over the headboard she could barely make out his features in the dark, though the angle was strange. “Can you feel what he feels?” Loki sat up a bit until she could clearly outline him in the dark.

“You mean my projection?” She nodded. “No,” he quickly replied. “Only shadows of sensations.” He finally met her stare, emerald gaze steeled for her response, but she only watched and waited for him to continue. “Under normal circumstances, I can completely impart my consciousness. I can often move freely between them, but not in here. In here, even the projection is a challenge. It’s hard to focus through it. Controlling it is second nature to me, but to even see through its eyes is hard. Tactile sensation is almost impossible in here.”

She stared into her lap, gently twining her fingers, clearly remembering the feel of his hand around hers. _It wasn’t real?_ Her fingers brushed her neck – the place where his lips had just barely touched. It was like a wisp of cool air against her skin. And it was still there, even now. The chill – the shiver that rolled down her spine was still there too. All of it certainly felt real – it had pretty much given her a panic attack. “Why do you ask?” Naomi said nothing. Perhaps she had only wondered. But why then would he even bother to touch her if he felt nothing? That was like self-inflicted torment. “Do you want it to be real?”

Her imagination escaped for a moment and before she’d reined it in again she felt that familiar spike of heat. It warmed her all over and was shortly promoting panic again. She bit her lip and forced it down. She saw the disappointment contorting his face already. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. _I don’t know._

“You’re afraid.”

“Yes,” she admitted sourly.

“Of me?”

“No. No, I’m just afraid. I don’t – I mean, I know what I’m afraid of. But it’s complicated.” She tried to gather her careening thoughts, but they were mostly jumbled beyond repair. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said firmly. “I’m afraid of how I feel about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?”

“I believe we share a mutual affection,” she said quietly, watching his green eyes for response. He didn’t quite smile, but she could see his relief. “It just terrifies me. I still haven’t come to terms with everything that’s already happened. It’s just-”

“You just need a little more time?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

Loki sat all the way up, hanging slightly forward, massaging the sleep from his eyes. “I don’t want you to be afraid – I don’t want to see you like I saw you before. You showed me a side of you that I am both honored and terrified to know. No one has ever sought my comfort, nor have I ever obliged it. I know this has more to do with those guards than anything, and I would never, _never_ do anything to harm you as they did. When you panicked earlier, I thought – well, I hope you know that was not my intent.”

“No, I know. That’s not how I wanted to react either.”

“When you first came here, when you first approached me, I know you only did so for the sake of camaraderie. We’re both trapped down here and it seems only fitting. I can’t ignore you anymore, not after all this. But we have little but time down here. Take all that you need.”

Naomi smiled, an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders. And with her mind no longer hounded with nagging questions, tiredness hit her from all sides. The blanket was suddenly so much warmer. The bed so much comfier. She curled up, tucked the blanket under her chin as sleep called her name louder and louder with each passing minute. _If this is a dream, please let me sleep._ “Goodnight Loki.” She could have sworn she felt his cool lips press softly against her forehead as consciousness began to drift away.

_“Goodnight Naomi.”_

And this time she slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! A little less angsty and emotionally trying I think... we all needed a little reprieve. Before things get terrible again... sorry about that... Thank you as always for reading!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait everyone! Life got really freaking crazy there for a while… granted it's still sorta crazy but whatever! I've made serious progress on my Loki costume and finally had a moment to finish this chapter HOORAY! I used my "I'm avoiding tumblr because of Thor 2 spoilers" time to work on this… P.S. THE SPOILERS ARE EVERYWHERE *not happy*
> 
> BUT! I have the most amazing news in the history of EVER! I met Tom Hiddleston! O_O asftdcmeeycnskfhcydntagadsftcbeywicnwlfdvwjfcncsen fkvc! It's been days and I still sorta don't believe it… Ima just be floating around in uber happy fangirl land until I don't know when… I totally snuggled into his neck and he was totally cool with it. In fact, he made an adorable noise when he saw the picture. *still drowning in all the feels* If anyone wants details on that little adventure I posted about it on my tumblr here: post/65738107204/so-i-met-tom-hiddleston
> 
> And now this next chapter before I totally distract myself… We're getting closer.
> 
> Take that however you will. In this chapter you can look forward to unloading of all major baggage and mad awful Loki feels. Cuz I'm mad about spoilers that apparently pertain to Loki feels and because I DO WHAT I WANT! And if any of you international followers/reviewers have seen the movie…
> 
> Do not spoil me or I will eat you. You have been warned.

_I just need a little more time._

_We have little but time down here. Take all that you need._

_Just a little more time._

_Goodnight Naomi._

It was a funny thing down here, this idea of time. In the nearly two months since she’d arrived here, the days, hours, minutes had dragged by unforgivably slow. Fifty-six days. Fifty-six grueling days. Some better than others. But there were still fifty-six of them. It had been nearly a month since the guards had attacked her. It hadn’t made her brood any less over it, but only time would ever heal that wound. Her eyes wandered over the tallies etched into the stone. She had updated it since her long lapse in consciousness. While some days were still cloudy in her memory, Loki’s continued affection and care had resurrected much of the time they had shared. Or rather, time she sort of shared minus her normal state of awareness. Those were the twelve days that changed everything. Everyday after that was easier. The marks in the stone were less angry and insistent. And the endless span of time condensed.

She had never expected to find a companion down here and not a day since meeting him, did she think it could have been Loki. He was often miserable and brooding and evil, but when he wasn’t, life in captivity was almost pleasant. _More than almost._ It wasn’t so much of a hardship with him there to see her through it. Now it was more like being trapped indoors while it was raining as opposed to being imprisoned in a dungeon several thousand feet below ground for no freaking reason at all.

Everyday since she’d _awakened from her fog_ – as Loki had put it – he would find his way into her cell to share at least one meal with her, and whenever he couldn’t, he’d be conjuring things into her cell as compensation, she supposed. She had already taken note of several tokens of his regret. The blanket, of course. New clothes. Well, not technically new. His reasoning for gifting her one of his shirts was that teleporting things was easier than creating them from nothing. Naomi was only half convinced, but regardless of intent, anything was better than the messy scraps she was trucking around in. The fabric was soft and warm, but the scent that stuck with it was dizzying. Even still, she loved it, though she shrugged it off as merely acceptable. He thought to offer a few of his books, but given they weren’t written in English, he amended that he could read them to her instead. Somehow that seemed to be his preference. Not a horrible idea. After listening to him talk – and not yell – about things, she’d come to enjoy his eternally soothing tone.

_Among other things._

Loki offered her time. True to his word, he took a few steps back and stayed there. But she could see his restraint – his frustration. But it had more to do with their unfortunate circumstances than her reluctance to get closer to him. She couldn’t. After learning that he could barely exist beyond that stupid pane of glass, she felt almost guilty. He’d made it his mandate to care for her, but at times it seemed almost painful. He shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but she could tell that it took a toll on him. Whatever enchantment was keeping them apart, it was strong enough that she urged him to only come through when it was necessary.

Of course, the idea of necessity seemed to elude him.

 _Even if I somehow charged him admission, necessity would be the farthest thing from his mind._ While she was outwardly irritated by his persistence and his stupid, selfless, stubborn attitude, she was more grateful for his company than she could ever form with words.

His duplicate form sat cross-legged, his knees barely a breath from touching hers, as he continued to break off pieces from some weird bread he’d been delivered. It was like garlic focaccia on steroids. She had no experience with prison prior to this little escapade, but she was fairly certain what they served back home could only be classified as gruel. As far as Loki’s half of the cell was concerned, this place was like first class captivity in comparison.

“I was a king,” he explained.

“Yes, well, now you’re a prisoner,” Naomi joked.

Loki laughed. He actually laughed. Up until now she’d only been able to coax a smile out of him. And it was mostly short lived. Or terrifying. But his laugh, paired with a smile that wasn’t entirely sinister, was utterly intoxicating. Suddenly she wanted to hear more of it and then none of it. Goosebumps again. She thoughtlessly shoved another piece of bread into her mouth to hide the slowly mounting discomfort. Leaning back, the dark green sleeves of her new shirt dusting her forearms, she glanced to where the real Loki still sat. He kept his eyes tightly shut, trying his hardest to focus through this surrogate body.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

“What?” She turned back, having almost forgotten he was still sitting right in front of her.

“Does it bother you – what I’ve done? That I am a prisoner?”

“Oh.” It took a moment longer after that to even remember to what he was referring: why he was here. As part of their very first conversation – his very first threat – he spoke of the atrocities he committed on her planet. He told her, as a means to frighten her, that he had led the invasion against New York. At the time it had been mildly startling, but under those circumstances, she hadn’t needed to care very much about the semantics of the entire thing. Thinking about it now and imagining him slaughtering people in droves with that mirthful grin on his face – it was almost odd after seeing a side of him that most others probably didn’t even know existed. She tried to picture it, but all she saw was his desperate attempt at comfort while she lay curled up in his lap. “I guess not,” she decided at last. Though it probably should have.

Loki seemed genuinely unnerved. “It doesn’t bother you that I thoughtlessly killed thousands of your people? It doesn’t bother you – all of things I threatened to do? You care about none of that?”

“Well, I care, but it doesn’t make me feel any different.” She frowned. “I guess that makes me something of a hybristophiliac doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Loki agreed soundly.

“So what does that make you?”

“A sadist, more than likely,” he shrugged with another nibble on the bread. “But I’ve been called worse things before.” She caught the humor loosed from the curve of his subtlest grin, but upon further recollection, he obviously found something not so humorous about it. “Everyone has ostracized me as a monster. Everyone, except you.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” she said with a shrug. “You’re an ass hole sometimes,” she quickly elaborated with a smile, “but monster seems a bit harsh.” Loki was unconvinced, staring into a vacant corner of the cell. “Do you think you’re a monster?”

“What?” It sounded as if the very question had offended him.

“Well you keep saying what everyone _else_ thinks of you, what do you think?” Loki didn’t answer, stare as blank as before. But his thoughts on the matter were clear. Just in the few interactions with other people she’d witnessed down here, she saw it in the way he carried himself, in the way he reacted to them. Real or not, he behaved as if the entire world was against him. Maybe it was. “Does your brother think you’re a monster?”

Loki went rigid, sitting straight up, his eyes burning holes through her own. “He is _not_ my brother,” he growled.

“Well he seemed to think so.”

“Of course he does. He’s too damn stupid to see the truth of that matter. And you need not concern yourself with it.”

Naomi stilled, slightly biting her bottom lip. “I was only trying to help.”

“Help,” Loki huffed. “Don’t think that because your sister hates you, you’re suddenly an expert on my pathetic excuse for a family.” He blanched so soon after the words left his mouth, she barely accounted for the transition. Not after she’d been totally paralyzed by that fatal jab. “Naomi – I didn’t mean that.”

“How do you know about my sister?”

He looked like he was going to be sick. “ _Gods._ When you were ill – I – I thought you knew – I’m sorry.”

“I had no idea what I was saying! How could you even ask me about something like that?” She already mirrored that sick feeling. _My sister._ It was a fight on a day-to-day basis to avoid thinking about her and the horrible mess she’d made of her life. Every single hardship she’d had to endure came back to her elder sister in some way or another. And Loki knew – _he knows._ “How could you do that?”

“Naomi – I didn’t – I swear I didn’t.”

Her hand roughly massaged her face, trying to keep everything contained. “What else did I tell you?” she breathed. Part of her believed he wouldn’t have asked, that she could have simply ranted like she’d been hypnotized but what if – _no._ He wouldn’t have. _I don’t want to believe that._ She watched him from the corner of her eye as he fussed, looking absolutely terrified. And when things seemed to come together again, he hardly resembled who he’d been only moments ago.

“Naomi – I’m sorry. But I didn’t ask anything of you. Had I known it was not something you wished to disclose, I would have stopped you. But you spoke so freely. You were starved and sickly and delirious. You thought you were dying. You had yourself convinced you were going to die here alone and forgotten – abandoned by your family.” Loki shook his head, still searching for an explanation. “I thought perhaps you trusted me. I thought you understood somehow – especially when you spoke now of Thor.” Naomi relaxed slightly with his admission, but tensed at the same time to even sense a crack in Loki’s normally fortified shell. “We share a certain familial struggle,” he admitted soundly, before his voice grew uncertain again. “I was raised among royalty – among gods. For thousands of years, only to find my entire existence was a lie. I was born of a race of hated creatures and adopted out of pity – brought here for the sake of a future alliance. And it all came to light at so cruel a time in my life. My brother,” the word alone didn’t sit quite right on his tongue.

“My brother – he was a true Asgardian, the first born, the heir to the throne. I was raised under the assumption that it could’ve been me. That I stood as an equal. But I was alienated and outcast for being different. I was a magician not a warrior. I was smart and not strong. And to learn what I really was-” He stared with eyes that brimmed with hatred and revulsion, eyes trained on his own hand. “A monster.” His hand looked almost blue with the strain as his hand fisted, before it disappeared into his lap.

“I localized my hatred – my pain – to my brother, just as your sister did to you. And to hear what it did to you – how she tore your family apart,” his voice trailed off. “I destroyed the only family I had out of jealousy and anger and spite and revenge. Thor, that damnable oaf, he was too empty headed to see how his brazen attitude so harshly overshadowed me. He never saw how his acts of jest piled on top of one another in my chest until it was just this enormous knot of resentment I was hopeless to untie. And I let that pain fester for so long that when I finally snapped, he could never make amends – none that I would ever find the humility to accept. I was insane. I lost my mind. And I never tried to find it. I sold what was left of it to the first person willing to take advantage of it. And in a fruitless quest to prove my worth – to prove that I was equal to my damn brother, I took an entire planet captive. Not even to mention the one I nearly destroyed before that! I slaughtered people thoughtlessly. And for a cause I hardly cared for. I never wanted the throne. I only ever wanted to be accepted. But when you spoke of how badly your sister hurt you – _needlessly­_ and for her own selfish reasons – I realized that I had no worth to prove. No hope to be accepted for anything more than a monster!”

Naomi couldn’t find words. Not a single one. To see him, this immovable mass of indiscernible negative emotion fall so suddenly vulnerable – it absolutely terrified her. And for a moment she was unsure she had the strength to bear the weight of such an admission. “Loki- I- I don’t-”

“All that was done to you, I could have easily done myself – I have! And no matter what I do – no matter how much I regret – it will never change anything.” She saw the sadness pool is his deep green eyes until his sleeve-covered wrist thwarted the escape of tears.

“I don’t blame you. I told you that,” she said finally, her voice only a whisper. Loki barely heard her. She watched him not even remembering how they ended up here. A hundred and eighty degree turn later and he’d gone from pleasant and happy to tortured and so so lost. It was a constant war between strength and pain. And he seemed poised right at the edge and she guessed, more than once, that he’d fallen all the way over.

She remembered that first moment she’d woken up. Over a week ago. Almost two. He sat on the floor as lifeless as a cadaver. And it had taken so little to drag him so low. A few misplaced words. While he had sulked, she had noted the mess of the outburst that came before she’d even fallen into her sickly state. A table was shattered and its contents had been walked over without concern. It had all just been kicked around since she’d last spoken to him. She could imagine him pacing, brow knotted with worry and anger and shame and a hundred other things he kept bottled tightly inside, but in the moment when it really mattered, his entire form softened and every trace of pain and anguish disappeared. If only for her sake.

And she had done the same for the people she cared for, bottled a thousand terrible things inside so they never had to see. So the pain didn’t interfere with the happiness of others. But in the end, it couldn’t be held in forever.

“Loki, I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond, only hung forward occasionally shaken with a tiny sob. For a moment she wondered if he’d gone back to his own body, but his original form was just as still. Just a lifeless. And lost. “Loki? Can you hear me?” She crawled timidly closer, reaching out for him before he just disappeared as he had a few times before. She curled her fingers around his – the first voluntary touch she had managed since waking up – but he didn’t respond. As if he hadn’t even felt it. _But he didn’t, did he?_  “ _Loki._ ” She cleared her throat even though he remained unresponsive. “I don’t hate my sister,” she said.

He glanced up, his eyes red and raw. “What?”

“I don’t hate Gwen for what she did to me, even though she may hate me. I could never stop loving her.”

“But you said she tore your family apart. She was so unkind to you.”

“She was. She told me that as soon as I was born, my parents stopped caring about her. She would yell at me and say that I was worthless and undeserving. But all the while, she was jealous of something I didn’t have. For a long time, it upset me and things only got worse, but after a while – after she was gone – I didn’t blame her. A troubled past, imagined or not, breeds pain and anger. You spend your whole life trying to escape a shadow – trying to be the better person. Jealousy leads to desperation. And then one day, you look back and you’re a long way from home. You’re not the person you used to be. You’ve done things you’re not proud of – things you regret. But you figure it’s too late to go back. So you stay the course because you figure, you’ve got nothing more to prove. Nothing worth living for. She found herself lost and alone – hopeless.” Loki’s grip tightened around hers. Whether he felt it or not, he knew it was there. “Is that what happened to you?”

She heard him sigh quietly, leaning closer, all color gone from his eyes. “Right on all accounts, love, apart from one: I _do_ have something worth living for. And eventually I shall find a way to show her that.”

“You already have,” she said with a smile. “Or have you already forgotten how I almost died a few days ago?”

“I was trying to forget.”

Having made a significant recovery, the memories of that long and arduous week had come back. Despite how calm and comforting he had seemed, his fear was tangible. But that’s not what she remembered. All she knew was his loving embrace and his endearingly forceful tone, willing her to get better again. Her hand shook as it reached for him and slowly came to rest against his cheek, the skin cold against her fingers. He leaned into it as if the imagined sensation were the only thing in the world he needed to survive. “I don’t want to forget.”

She tugged him into the tightest embrace she could manage so that he might feel it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed him as close as he could until he finally conceded his rigid and unforgiving exterior to bury his face in her mess of curly hair. “My sister hurt me very much but never irreparably so – never. If she came to me one day truly remorseful for what happened between us, I would love her just as I did before. She’s not a monster, Loki. And neither are you. I promise.  And you will _never_ be a monster to me.”

Naomi heard him sob again, a softer sound against the skin of her neck. He may have said something then, but the words were lost somewhere within their embrace.

 

_The monster parents tell their children about at night…_

_Maybe not…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TaaDaa! Here it is! Sorry for making you wait so long… this chapter was not very cooperative and it's really long… Like my longest yet. It really didn't want the tail end cut off (cuz then I'd have a tiny scene all by itself that kinda needs to be attached to something) so it is what it is. I shall gift you with fluffy adorableness before I promptly yank the rug out from under you… sorry and not sorry about that. That's sort of just the nature of this story. But I hope you're all enjoying the ride...
> 
> An ENORMOUS thank you to those of you who helped me through this very irritating and labor intensive chapter. It's been a battle for sure. And also a great big thank you to my reviewers cuz you make me feel all warm and fuzzy and appreciated! And since I'm lazy, I usually need the encouragement...
> 
> Have fun ma lovelies...

_There’s no place like home_ , she thought. _Even when we hate it or even if it’s gone, we yearn for it._ But not simply the ground upon which it once resided, but the aura and the sense of belonging. The place in the world you were gifted with until you had to find your own way. The friends you didn’t have to find – they were just always there. Long ago, she had let all of that go. There would never be another place like home, _but I’ve never felt closer before._

Loki opened his heart and made a place for her to stay. But watching him tear open old wounds in the process was gut wrenching. She’d never understand how they got here. At each other’s throats one moment and in each other’s arms the next, begging to just forget all that came before. And not only their slights and jests and harsher words, but everything. The lives that led them here. The heartache and pain. The torment and loneliness. There’s no place like home, _but I don’t need it anymore._ They were still locked in a dungeon. The ways to ease the boredom were dwindling slowly to nothing, but she wasn’t alone. Never alone again. So long as he was there, the years could pass with everyday and every hour the same mundane existence and she would be content.

But their game of smoke and mirrors still irked her in a way she couldn’t completely ignore. A nagging thought. A thorn in her side. Ever since their late night conversation, she’d been mulling that thought around. On that night she’d been unsure. Now she was simply stuck between a highly conscious desire and an involuntary panic attack. Knowing that Loki’s presence was only a projection helped her smother the anxiety in the beginning, but now it only upset her. She wanted it to be real but there was still that little voice reminding her of all that transpired already. Still indecisive as always.

Loki held his distance, but she could feel the way he tested her – ever so gently as the days dragged on. Pressing closer. _Teasingly closer._ Only to pull away in the end for fear of her fear. _Stupid fear. Stupid panic. Stupid everything._

_Stupid me._

But he was endlessly persistent and patient. Little but time, he’d said. His life was measured in millennia of course. It was only fitting. Naomi’s life, however, was measured merely in decades and already she’d grown impatient with herself. And Loki took notice, finding amusement in that. And so it became yet another game of theirs. She’d yet to decide how she felt about this one. But she could sum it up in a single word: frustration.

For now, they indulged a siesta and he sat in the center of her cell, softly reading a poem from one of his leather bound tomes. She was nestled safely against him, head in his lap as every word, enunciated in his ever-dulcet tone washed over her, leaving her numb and content. “ _Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness._ ” His fingers habitually found their way into her hair in the way they had day after day for days on end. It had become part of their rhythm – a silent hymn for tortured hearts. The only peace they would ever find down here. “ _You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should._ ” And it was enough.

“… in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. And above all, strive to be happy.”

“Is this your first time reading this book?” she mocked, glancing up at him. “I’m not sure you’ve quite absorbed its message.” He feigned bopping her on the head with it, before she quickly snatched it from him. It was a nicely leather bound book. Old. Older than her probably and very well read in spite of her jest. She flipped open the page he’d been reading. “This is in English,” she noted quizzically. She flipped a few pages back. “This is one of our books.”

“Well I thought all of my books would be boring. My mother thought I should learn something while I’m stuck down here, so they’re not really poem or prose. Endless information. This one seemed the better option.”

“How did you get this?”

“I have made many visits to Midgard in my lifetime, none for a very long time, spare the last. Long before I invaded it, before the more recent turn of events, my brother and I used to come often. As younger men we were worshipped as gods so many civilizations ago. Thor made it a point to parade around, winning the affections of the masses, while I reeked the silent havoc for which I’m know. Our visits were more clandestine towards the end. But I did manage to appropriate several souvenirs over the centuries.”

Naomi closed the book, glancing up at him with a smile. “Does that make me your latest souvenir?”

Loki sat up a bit, his expression rather unreadable all of the sudden. His fingers unwound from her hair before lightly caressing her jaw. She waited a long moment for the panic that was still gradually subsiding, but it didn’t come. “A gift,” he said, running his cool fingertips across her cheek. “And by far the greatest I have ever received.” Naomi set the book aside and further curled into his lap until his arms closed in around her, all the while barely restraining a blush. His flesh was usually cold but his embrace was warm. And she would be endlessly happy to stay wrapped within it forever.

“If I asked you why you were here would you tell me?”

His eyes suddenly shined with the same nagging curiosity she’d been dealing with for the entirety of her time here. “I would,” she quickly decided. “But I don’t know why I’m here.”

“No idea?” Naomi shook her head. “No big war crimes? No spreading alien secrets or selling other-worldly weapons?” She continued to shake her head, starting to giggle with his every preposterous suggestion. “No consorting with beings from other planets?”

“Not until now,” she pointed out, her smile widening significantly as she leaned back to look up at him. “So unless you and your alien friends can predict future crimes, I doubt that was it.”

Loki laughed shortly before all amusement quickly deserted him again. “Would you tell me what happened?”

She thought back, staring into her lap for a moment – it was months ago now, but the memory was still clear enough. “Yeah,” she finally responded. “I was just walking home from a friend’s house. It was only around the corner, which is why I don’t have any shoes.” She gestured to her still bare feet, wiggling her toes. They’d roughened up considerably after two months of shoe-less wear and tear. “I hate walking home alone. I hate being alone in general actually,” she added miserably. Loki began twirling her hair again, ensuring her without words she’d no need to worry about that. “I was walking home,” she began again. “And all of the sudden he was there. He came at me from behind and I never even saw him. I still don’t know what he looked like, other than the fact he was big. I haven’t got much weight to throw around on a good day. I didn’t have a chance. I mean, I tried.”

She grabbed her pen from where it sat not far away. She made a stabbing motion in the same way she had the night she was abducted. “I know I broke the skin more than once, but he didn’t even flinch.”

He took the pen, turning it over in his hand, noting the blood that still stained its tip. “Æsir are much stronger than humans. Physically denser I think, as well. At full strength, even bullets cease to be harmful. It’s strange this had any effect at all. Did he say anything to you?”

Naomi shook her head. “No. Not a word. I mean, he might have, but I couldn’t really think past the nauseating ride here.”

Loki grinned. “The bifrost. You get used to it.”

“I’d rather not actually.”

“Well, it’s by far the easiest where transportation between the worlds is concerned.”

“If you say so,” she huffed unconvinced. Her mind wandered, trying not to imagine the alternatives. “My parents were supposed to be coming to visit me,” she said quietly. “The day after I was taken, they probably showed up and I wasn’t there. Who knows what they thought – certainly not this.”

“I’m sure they’re looking for you,” Loki said quickly.

“But they won’t find me will they?”

Loki’s hands stilled and he sighed softly. “No. Even if your family knew what became of you, they could never reach you here. I have told you before, I will do anything I can to return you home. But there is little I can do from here.”

“I know.” She shifted in his lap, turning to tuck her shoulder beneath his. She pressed her cheek to his chest, sighing deeply and breathing the scent that was only his. “But I’m not too worried about going home anyway,” she said quietly.

Loki frowned down at her in surprise. “And what prompted that change of heart?” he asked, tangling her hair around his fingers again.

“You.”

Slowly Loki twined his fingers into hers, his cool touch making her skin prickle all over with goose bumps. “What did I do to deserve you?” He shifted her closer, his hand coming to the back of her neck. He pressed his lips to her forehead and when she didn’t shy away, he moved to her temple, then her cheek and then down to her jaw. And when he came to the crook of her neck, he paused and she very clearly recalled the first time his lips had barely brushed that spot. The feeling of having utter bliss seared into her skin until the panic washed it away. But this time her thoughts were quiet, her heart racing of new accord.

Naomi tilted her head back, resting heavier on the hand that supported it, arching her neck just slightly. His next breath warmed her skin before his lips covered her quickening pulse. She shivered as his kiss traveled down her neck, nearly meeting one of her collarbones before she felt that sickeningly familiar turn of her gut. She half turned in his grasp, bracing his shoulder and praying the panic would not return again. _Not again. Not again._ She pinched her eyes shut, her grip tightening as she tried to force it down. _Please not again._ “Naomi.” She still shook in his gently tightening embrace as she tried to catch her careening composure. Her mind hardly functioned in this state, screaming a thousand things at once, none of which made sense. She desperately, _blindly_ searched for something – anything to ground her again. She frantically pulled herself upright in a vain attempt to escape. “Naomi, look at me.”

Loki’s voice suddenly pierced her cacophony of frantic thoughts and she slowly opened her eyes. “It’s me. Naomi, _it’s me._ It’s all right.” His hand came to her cheek and she sat stark still as he blatantly ignored her need to escape – to just breathe – to center her mind again – to be anywhere but here. But Loki held her there, his deep green eyes centered on hers until slowly the waves of panic began to recede. She felt his hand on her back, massaging slow circles until the panic was only a shadow, lost in his unexpected ministrations. “I gave you my word I would never let anything harm you. Not again. Not ever. You’re safe. Do you understand?”

She blankly stared at him for what could have been a lifetime. _Safe. Safe?_ Since being abducted – since living alone – since her family’s desertion – since her sister’s unending abuse, every single day was a battle of paranoia and loneliness. She had little conception of what it meant to be safe. She’d failed to protect herself twice so far over the course of this adventure. But Loki, in so few words, made all that seem such a distant horror. _Safe?_

They hadn’t been so close in all their time together. She’d been so utterly terrified of falling into a fit of anxiety from which she couldn’t return. But Loki’s arms surrounded her entirely, keeping her close, proving once again that he undeniably cared for her. His fingers fiddled with the curls that laid on her back as he anxiously awaited her response to a question she’d completely forgotten. His eyes took on this look of defeat as she continued to stare, her thoughts refusing to form words or even logical thought. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed you so far,” he said finally, his hypnotic gaze disappearing. She finally remembered the question.

Naomi grabbed his arm as he began to remove himself from their embrace in his customary retreat. “No.” Her grip was like iron, ensuring he wouldn’t disappear again. “I know. I know. I do. I do understand.” Loki settled slightly again and her grip relaxed. She watched him carefully as if she expected him to suddenly withdrawal what he’s said. But he only returned her stare with a gaze so burdened with longing.

She didn’t need time. She didn’t need space. She needed him. After so many years having her strength and independence exploited, needing someone was a terrifyingly foreign feeling. But she knew without a doubt that she’d be safe so long as he was there. _Safe._ “I’m not afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice quiet, but she captured Loki’s attention all the same. Her hand came to the back of his neck and for a moment, he seemed more startled then she did. She twined her fingers through his thick, raven-black hair, until her nails brushed his scalp. Naomi felt him shiver as she dragged him closer again, her other hand coming to rest against his cheek, tracing the prominent bone beneath her thumb.

Her lips parted, barely a breath from his and for the longest time they were still, until Loki’s restraint finally disappeared. First it was only a simple press, his lips barely parting hers so that they shared the next breath, but the next spoke volumes of a thoroughly ingrained desperation. She felt the tip of his tongue slide along her bottom lip, the sensation giving her chills. She further parted her lips and drew him closer, both of her hands tightly knotted into his curly black hair. She gasped when his tongue finally invaded her mouth. As her mind was slowly drowned in her overwhelming desire, she felt her body sink deeper into his hold. His chest became a cool press against hers as his arms further surrounded her to account for her suddenly slack form. She felt almost dizzy.

She parted from him only a moment to catch her breath before losing herself to his kiss once more. She heard him sigh contentedly into her mouth like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His arm adjusted around her waist and then eased her from his lap until her back was pressed against the floor. She caught him smiling as he trailed kisses down her neck again, drawing slowly at the crook of her jaw. She’d never seen him so utterly blissful and she could feel his gentle grin against her skin. Her heart fluttered to even imagine what he felt after all this time.

But something wasn’t right. _That’s not right._

Her head fell to one side, her cheek cool against the floor of the cell as Loki continued to kiss her neck. She opened her eyes and was shocked quickly back to the present. _This isn’t real._ This wasn’t real. But Loki was real – lying barely conscious in his cell, his limbs arranged uncomfortably the way he had fallen.

“Loki,” she gasped. “Loki stop.” He hadn’t even heard her. She pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him off with as much strength as she could muster. “Loki stop!” She shoved him until he finally sat up, only half comprehending her sudden distress. “Loki, you have to stop – you’re going to kill yourself!”

The next time she moved to shake him out of his fog, she fell through him as his clone was reduced to a mere projection and his consciousness retreated back where it belonged. The barrier between them hummed loudly smelling faintly of ozone as his image in her cell finally disappeared. She was paralyzed as she waited for him to wake again and it was the longest few seconds of her entire life. But he suddenly convulsed as the waking world hit him like a ton of bricks. His chest heaved, his lungs forcefully taking in air, which he very shortly released with a sharp cough that spattered the white floor with blood. He quickly collected himself, his shaking arms bracing the floor until the feeling passed.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, still unmoving on her hands and knees.

He nodded, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His entire body was shiny with sweat, like he’d just run a marathon; his wavy black hair stuck to the sides of his face. He pulled himself closer to the glass before slouching down against it, the back of his head making a loud thunk against it. Naomi finally found her limbs again and crawled to meet him, her back settling – theoretically – against his. “Loki, I’m so sorry. I know you can’t – I mean. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so close.”

“I shouldn’t have even tried,” Loki snapped gruffly. Naomi felt that jab, but with a sigh his tone calmed again. He seemed too exhausted to even be irritated anymore. “It wasn’t your fault, I’m sorry.”

“Maybe I should hide in the bathroom for the rest of eternity,” she drawled quietly. “It’d probably be better for the both of us.” He might have laughed, but it was a very sharp – very pain-filled sound. All humor left her voice then. “Could you feel that?” He was quiet, but in her periphery she saw his fingers brush his lips, the longing more than evident in his sigh.

“More than before. So much more.”

Naomi felt a wave of anguish rush up recalling his smile from only moments ago. And now this. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

Loki said nothing. She glared at him over her shoulder, her hands aggressively fiddling with the hem of her shorts. “I’m not a fucking magician, Loki. I can’t save you. That’s a favor I don’t think I can return.”

“I know,” he said finally.

“It’s not like I don’t want this. You know I would give almost anything, but it’s not worth this. I will not watch you die, Loki. I won’t.”

“And what would you have me do?”

“Wait. Just wait.” Loki growled, his spine straightening against the glass. Naomi half turned to see him over her shoulder. “You’ve been so patient with me. I doubted that you could be for a time – because you’re impulsive and stupid sometimes, but we’re still here. I’m still alive – you’re still alive. And – there are worse things than this,” she replied definitively. “And seeing how our options are slim otherwise, I am choosing to be confident that an opportunity will present itself.”

“I have been sentenced to rot down here for eternity,” he said with a disbelieving laugh. “We will both of us be dead before _opportunity presents itself_.”

As if on cue, the doors atop the stairs unlatched, the sound of metal on stone reverberating across the chamber. Naomi strained her eyes in the darkness to see who it might be this time. Her stomach knotted to even think about it. But the step was light and Loki seemed to have a better idea who it was. He struggled momentarily to get to his feet. Once he was up, he moved much easier, but not without an obvious tinge of pain. And not without a few drops of blood still smeared on his chin. “Mother.” He approached her at the quickest pace he could manage, finally meeting her at the glass. His eyes had never looked so pleading. “I had hoped you would come.”

“I will always come,” Naomi heard her say as she returned to her feet. This woman was beautifully aged, clad in garb that looked like royalty. And she never would have guessed by her stunning blue eyed gaze or her tightly curled golden hair that this was the woman he called mother, but Loki did not shun her. He didn’t greet her with contempt or irritation. She was used to his somber expression but this was different. And in his mother’s weary and worried smile, she saw a relationship carved from eons of conflict – in her she saw a foothold in the world that Loki had long given up on.

She said something else to Loki that Naomi hadn’t caught, just as her gaze fell upon her. It was almost as piercing as his. She could feel herself being read up and down in a matter of seconds and all the while this woman – his mother – was entirely unreadable. “So it is true?” she said finally. Loki briefly glanced at her over his shoulder with this look like the cat was out of the bag. And yet, she didn’t feel caught. Not the way she continued to stare, her eyes traveling between the two of them. Somehow it seemed she understood.

“That all depends on what you’ve heard,” Loki replied smoothly.

“I feel better knowing your actions are more to do with her,” she said quietly. “Than for the general sake of mischief. Very clever of you to find a way around your father’s enchantment. But you know I cannot condone it. You directly disobeyed him – risked your life in the process.” Her hands twiddled busily in her sleeves, restraining the urge to wipe the blood from his chin. “Why?” she asked thoughtfully, her voice stern and demanding. Naomi imagined she could make this liar tell the truth, even when it so often eluded him.

“She was left here to die. What else could I do? In spite of the front I often hold, I couldn’t sit here and watch her die. What would you have done?” His mother didn’t answer, but she smiled, silently grateful for his decision. “Do you know why she’s here?”

She shook her head, glancing at Naomi again. “I have my suspicions same as you do.”

Loki frowned. “Odin?”

“He’s had something on his mind for a long time, Loki. And I don’t know what it is, but I fear it concerns you. Perhaps you as well,” she said looking into the other cell before retuning her attention to her son. “But he won’t speak of it. And he knows of all this – what’s transpired down here – someone has brought it to his attention, though I don’t know whom.”

Loki growled. “ _That guard_ – he’ll pay for his treasonous tongue.”

Naomi’s stomach turned uncomfortably.

“And that’s another matter,” his mother continued. “While I can accept and do in fact appreciate whole-heartedly what you have done for this young woman, I do not approve of your decision to kill him.”

“I was protecting her!”

“Through unnecessary bloodshed.”

Naomi, now thoroughly nauseated, was staring at the blood that still stained her side of the cell. The drips on the glass. The dried pool on the floor. She’d done well to ignore them thus far. But the guard – he must have returned for her as he had promised. _But Loki never said – he didn’t speak of it._ She thought she might be sick, imagining what Loki had done. She had only an inkling of what he was capable of, but it was enough to make her nervous. Her hands fidgeted with one another, her fingers losing circulation as she wound them into the hem of Loki’s knit shirt.

“He raped her,” Loki spat. “And he received exactly what he deserved.”

His mother frowned but never broke her son’s livid gaze. “I understand,” she said quietly, “but death doesn’t solve everything. A life for a life is not always the answer. None of this bodes well for either of you. And you know your father is not pleased.”

“Of course, he’s not pleased,” Loki growled. “I couldn’t please that man if my damn life depended on it.”

“Loki, please. You must understand that you’ve put him in a difficult position.”

“He disowned me!” Loki nearly screamed. “You are the only reason I am even alive – that is what he said to me. My _homecoming_ would have been a public execution if not for you. I couldn’t possibly care less of his satisfaction.” He stomped off, his weight still favoring one side more than the other.

His mother glanced in Naomi’s direction again, her eyes cool and calculating. Calming in some weird way. “What’s your name dear?”

“Naomi.” Her voice shook a bit more than she wanted.

She turned back to Loki, that stern mom look suddenly very prominent. “Does Naomi mean something to you?”

Loki dropped his gaze as if he was being scolded. He watched the ground for a long time, teeth clenched, his pacing halted by a question that demanded reply. But it was like pulling teeth. “Yes,” he said finally, the tiny word a rumble in his chest.

“Then perhaps you should reconsider. You know as well as I that he _will_ take her away from you. Just as easily as he brought her here.” Loki had a possessive look in his eyes that nearly startled her. But somehow it made her feel safer. “Your father and I approach conflict in very different ways and it breaks my heart of late to see how hard he’s been on you. He’s been blinded in more ways than one, I fear. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it will be soon. I have no doubt. I came only to warn you and to see that you were safe.”

“Thank you.” His expression relaxed and he moved toward her again. “Thank you for coming down here.”

She smiled and touched her hand to the glass where she might have cupped his cheek. The barrier hummed but it didn’t open to her. “I will always come.” But there was still Loki’s indefinite sense of disbelief. “I foresee a better future, Loki. I really do. But you need to be careful. Several steps ahead, yes?” Loki nodded, but he didn’t appear to share her optimism.  “I’ll see you again soon.”

She departed as swiftly as she had come, leaving a whirlwind of confusion in her wake. In her head, Naomi was slowly assembling a picture – putting the puzzle together. So far, it was looking sickeningly grim. Her childhood had grown rather rosy in comparison.

Loki stared long after she’d gone, like part of his mind had floated off to another surrogate body somewhere. Naomi’s mind, on the other hand, was stuck in a very different rut. Her eyes were once again glued to the scarlet smear. She went to it, her bare feet cautious to be anywhere near it. But soon she stood where her attacker probably stood – where her attacker probably _died_. She imagined the blood escaping him from somewhere – leaking – _pouring_. Her eyes followed the trail up the glass, trying – and not trying – to figure out where it had come from. She was startled when she found Loki standing there all of the sudden, his cool green eyes watching her.

“He came for you again,” Loki admitted sourly. “And I did what I should have done the first time – long before he had the chance to harm you.”

“You killed him?”

He didn’t smile, though she half expected him to. Instead, he just nodded, slow and solemn. He ran a hand through his long, unruly hair as a quiet sigh escaped him. “I feel so protective of you – possessive. I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve had in life, because the moment I don’t, someone steals it away.” All of the sudden, Naomi missed his embrace so intensely. But they stood apart, he and she and the pane of glass. “I won’t come into your cell again,” he said quietly “But I promised I would protect you, Naomi, and I will do so no matter the cost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end now… sort of? maybe. But next chapter… shit's going down. Just putting it out there.
> 
> Oh and if anyone was wondering, the poem was Desiderata (but you smart people probably knew that already). P.S. If you haven't heard Tom read said poem… you haven't lived.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short I'm afraid since it's sort of leading into the next one. But it is none the less important. Originally it was attached to the next chapter but the next chapter is going to be an absolute monster so I had to cut this off.
> 
> So here ya go, my lovelies! Thanks as always for all the love and support! Enjoy!

The days dragged on rather uneventfully. Frigga’s message still hung thick in the air above their heads, interspersed with a few downtrodden realizations and misbegotten circumstances that left them in this new state of irritating normalcy. _Just another day in paradise._ Loki sat slumped in his chair, his long legs slung over the footrest. He rolled his head back and forth over his shoulders attempting to relieve the dull ache he couldn’t account for. Though he assumed it had something to do with his lack of sleep and constant pacing. _Or more than likely from slumping in this damn chair._ He hadn’t managed a good night’s sleep since retreating back here for the last time. _It’s not because she didn’t want you there,_ he assured himself. _She simply didn’t want you to kill yourself for the sake of something so fleeting and needless._

But it was beautiful. To see her, even for only a moment, through closer eyes – the eyes she looked to with such passion. To almost feel her soft skin under his fingertips – her heated flesh beneath his lips. He almost swore he caught her scent; mostly lavender, seemingly infused in her curls. To have her melt in his embrace without panic or pain – it was like a dream nearly realized. But only just. She had forgotten, same as he had, that none of it was real. That in spite of everything, it couldn’t be real.

Naomi lay on the floor nearby seemingly unbothered, though situated strategically close to the glass. She made him promise not to come in again and he held it as close to his heart as the others. But she seemed to hate this one just as much as he did. In all his time down here, she was the only relief from that madness he was ever afforded and now even she was drifting out of his reach. And it burned to have come so close.

In all honesty, the repercussions of that little exertion were still jarring. His mind escaped, forced through the mesh of the barrier to amount on the other side but to bring it back – his mind ached at the thought. He remembered the strain – the way it stuck but eventually slipped through for his scattered mind to recollect in his own head. But what if it hadn’t? That brief moment in between reminded him far too much the Void and the long fall he took through it. It was an endless chasm between the realms – between this life and the next. It was so dark and so empty and so endless, it was maddening. Escape was only an idea and one not so often entertained. Loki frowned, quickly shoving those thoughts into the background. The whole of it did not bear thinking about.

Naomi tucked her arm under her chin, continuing her latest doodle. It was nice to see her return to it after all this time, even if she only did so out of boredom. He couldn’t restrain a grin when he’d noticed she’d done a few sketches of him, many of them done before the first time he’d even come into her cell. He wanted nothing more than to heckle her about it, but not of late. After this latest turn of events, he didn’t feel like doing much of anything. But it could be worse, he thought. So much worse.

She rolled over with an exaggerated sigh, almost breaking Loki’s morbid train of thought. In a similarly dramatic fashion, she chucked her pen at the glass, effectively startling him this time before she slung her arms over her face. The barrier hummed with its putrid yellow glow as the unlikely weapon rolled back to her. “The pen is out of ink.”

“Of course it is.”

She sat up with obvious strain, crossing her legs and scooting a bit closer. “Are you okay?” Surely it was obvious, he thought. _I’m hardly okay anymore._ But she smiled – only slightly, but she managed it all the same. On her knees, she moved closer again as if that damn panel of glass didn’t even exist. “Don’t worry, Loki, I-” A cry broke her quiet consolation as her hand met the glass. She screamed as the gold barrier hummed and burned so bright he could barely see through it. And as the enchantment cooled, he found himself on his feet and she was curled on her side, nursing her hand. The moment he even got close, he suddenly felt its sting – the way its sei∂r probed for anything living to snag in its wake.

He tried to reach past it, barely considering the promise he’d made. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t reach her. It wasn’t even like before when he’d initially forced his way through. _It’s worse now._ The enchantment had been fully restored – the mistake undone – just as he had feared since this epic began. “Naomi?” He came as close as he could, to the point the barrier might have singed his hair. “Naomi, are you all right?” Slowly she uncurled, but she still shook. She stared at her hand, carefully unfurling her fingers to reveal a horrible burn, gnarled and twisted around her fingers and across the back of her hand.

After a moment without response, she moved to sit up again, quietly cursing under her breath. And all the while Loki could do little more than grit his teeth, his cool skin itching to soothe her pain. But he was reduced yet again to a helpless bystander. _Not again._

They both stilled at the sound of a sudden commotion just atop the stairs – just beyond the doors. _No. Not yet._ It wouldn’t be a simple delivery this time. Nor would they be afforded another warning. Whoever was on their way wasn’t coming with good intentions. And the revived security between them spoke volumes of that. _Please. Not yet._ Naomi stared up at him, eyes wide with pain as that unpleasantly familiar panic overtook her again. _No good can come of this._

Finally the doors unlatched and an entire parade of guards invaded the dungeon. And then there was Thor, bringing up the flank in his full armored regalia. He looked like he was fixing to do something beyond even his realm of comfort. Perhaps it was even _worse_ than he thought. Loki didn’t move as the first of the guards reached the cell – and Naomi followed his lead. The guard firmly planted his staff upon the floor with a resonating boom. “The Allfather demands your presence.”

Thor quickly pushed through the rest of the guards with purpose. “Father wishes to speak with you,” he corrected gruffly.

“Is that so?” he asked accusingly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know damn well what,” Thor snapped, extending a hand toward Naomi’s cell. “An entire year without incident and you choose now of all times to- ”

“To what? I never left my cell,” he pointed out with a grin.

His fists clenched as he tried to stomach some verbal assault. “You can explain how you managed that when you speak to father.”

As the first of the guards filed into his cell, he stared intently at Naomi with only a single thought pulsing through his brain. _He can and_ will _take her away from you._ His mother’s words rung loud and clear in his ears. After spending every day in her company for so long, he didn’t want to imagine the day he’d spend without it. The guards approached and he suddenly reappeared at the other side of the cell. Today would not be that day.

“Brother, don’t be difficult.”

“If I go, she goes.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Thor scoffed.

“Well then you will have to explain to the Allfather why I will not be in attendance.” Loki slipped out of their grasp again, receding further into the cell with his usually stubborn determination. He would not have any more harm befall her. And keeping her close was the only way to assure that.

“This was not a suggestion, Loki.”

“Neither is mine,” Loki snarled. “If he wishes to speak with me then by all means, he is free to drag himself down here. But if he _demands_ my presence, he could, at the very least, acquiesce to a very simple request. After all, if she is to be the subject of our little discussion, her presence is only fitting. I am not leaving this cell without her.”

Thor stared for the longest time, his brows further beetling by the second. But Loki could see when his _brother_ finally conceded. Despite the state of their relationship, Thor knew better than to argue with him, especially in a position where brute strength wouldn’t help him. Loki was by no means an immovable object, but he would not be swain. Not now. Not after all this time. And not where Naomi was concerned. Thor shook his head with an irritated sigh, already knowing he’d see Hel for this.

Loki’s eyes narrowed, following him as he stepped into her cell. Naomi was still on the floor, cradling her very burnt hand, but she watched Thor with the angriest stare, her resolve not even slightly impaired. She was so seriously dwarfed next to him, but he could perfectly imagine her attacking him all the same. Of course, that didn’t make Loki any less protective. He might have even growled as he dragged her to her feet. But Thor just gave him a look before bringing her out a bit more gently than before.

He barely took note when the guards clapped a familiar pair of cuffs around his wrists; sei∂r smothered yet again. But this time it couldn’t have mattered less. His eyes followed her as she stepped out of the cell for the first time in so long – to see her not exactly free but at last unobscured by the walls of the cell – there were no words. It had been over two months – two _tortuous_ months of being trapped like this. So close, yet so far. _But not this time._

As he stepped from his cell, he watched as the guards fell in around them. Around her. And he saw the way she fussed, her eyes frantic, smothering panic they had only just repressed. Awakened so simply. _Not this time._ Taking the stairs two at a time, he slipped past the few guards that separated them and slipped his hand into hers. She instinctually clung to him even before she half turned, completely startled to see him there. “Loki.”

“As you were!” The nearest guard invaded their space, a single armored hand intent to pull them apart again. _But not this time,_ Loki growled.

He only glanced over his shoulder but his look was absolutely seething, green eyes welling with the sei∂r trapped inside, just begging to come free. “Touch her and I will maim you with my bare hands.”

Thor might have laughed then, but regardless, the guard retreated.

“It’s all right,” Loki said. He pressed closer, the chain between his wrists rattling against her back as he secured his other hand around her shoulders. In spite of the obvious pain, she wrapped his hand around hers, wincing when his cool flesh met her latest injury. He could feel the intense heat of it and the painful throb as blood rushed through her veins. But as much as it pained him, he felt it. He _felt_ it. He found the skin of her unscathed wrist as soft as he’d imagined it. And the feeling of her fragile form tucked into his embrace left him visibly shaken. And it was real. But they weren’t afforded even a moment to savor it.

His grip tightened around her as they approached the doors that would eventually lead them to the throne room. To the Allfather. And undoubtedly to an untimely end to everything they had only just found down here. “Everything is going to be all right,” he assured her. But his voice couldn’t bear the weight of such hope.

“You’re a good liar, Loki,” she said quietly.

His grip tightened around her hand before he brought it to his chest, the chain still clattering between his wrists. Her eyes met his just for a moment and he saw even worse than the fog that had blanketed her mind for so long. Worse than seeing the faith she once lost in him. She looked so terrified and this time it was from something he knew he could not protect her from. _But I promised I would protect her at any cost._ He pulled her closer until her form was flush against him and then he pressed his lips to her temple, lingering there for as long as he could. _A good liar?_ He smiled sadly down at her. “The best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the sorta sad ending. But we all know what's coming. Speaking of which: the wait will be a bit longer for the next chapter. But it's a good thing! I have to finish the next two chapters before I post the next one because the cut off between them is the worst cliff hanger ever and I don't enjoy such maniacally intentional suspense. So ima be nice this time and post them together… so you don't all gang up and kill me. See you all soon! And Happy Thanksgiving!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the longest wait ever… and at the most random time of day… it is finally here! TaaaDaaa! Longest chapter to date, overflowing with feels and all sorts of horrible stuff you have all been so looking forward to! I hope it lives up to your expectations!
> 
> So without further ado… the next TWO chapters…

Loki knew this path without conscious thought. He had aged several hundred years within these halls and even now when all of it had grown foreign and foreboding, his memory served him. Even the intricate knot work that adorned so much of this place, spoke of an ingrained familiarity. And such patterns would always give warmth to the life he’d left behind, even with those cold lesions of his home world more truly ingrained upon his flesh. He remembered this walk in particular. More than once he’d been called to this throne room at the Allfather’s behest. In the past the matters had been few and far between. Occasional scolding for mischief, interspersed with menial ceremonies and saving Thor from his own idiocy. Such trivial matters. Still, this wasn’t the first time he’d been brought before the throne in chains.

And the last time he was sentenced to rot in the dungeons for the rest of his miserable life.

He was hopeful and nearly certain that he would never have to see the Allfather again. The old man’s parting words had stung like salt in an open wound. And through his months of captivity, it festered. _Born to be a king._ So many times he’d been told that he was born to be a king. But in so few words he’d been degraded to even less than a prisoner. Even less than his Jotun blood. He was born to die abandoned and forgotten. A runt. A disgrace. Worthless in every respect.

Several years before he might have taken such cruelties to heart, given that Odin’s last poor choice of words prompted his self-destructive escape through the Void. But it merely bolstered his hatred – his utter loathing. And after endless days in solitude it left him bitter and twisted and angry and lost.

And right where Naomi found him.

He held her even closer as they came upon the throne room. Her hand still shook from the burn she’d sustained, but she seemed well enough otherwise. Her bare feet were nearly silent as she walked across the polished marble floors. Her eyes swept the halls without much concern. But he knew her masks now and this was unfortunately one of them.

As the doors to the throne room opened, he felt her pulse quicken in her tightening grip. But there wasn’t anything more he could do. Still surrounded by their caravan of guards, they were pressed forward until they were left standing at the foot of the dais. Normally the Allfather looked so carefully removed as he oversaw the Nine Realms, completely cold and emotionless, but as his gaze met the figures at his feet, he couldn’t hide his discontent. “What is the meaning of this?” His rumbling voice carried through the room, quickly commanding everyone’s attention.

Loki still maintained a white knuckled grip on Naomi’s hand and she was still pressed into his side, now of her own accord. But he didn’t respond, only retained the same emotionless façade, his dark green gaze focused intently on the condescending glare that fell upon him. After a long, chilling silence, Thor finally came forward. “He refused to come without her.”

“As a prisoner, he has no place making demands.”

Loki smirked, shortly noting his mother’s wary gaze. She stood precariously at the foot of the dais, halfway between him and the All father. So had been her stead for so long. His eyes refocused on Odin just as he was motioning to his guards. And Naomi was very shortly removed from his grasp, their hands forcefully unlaced. They shared in that brief moment of panic, but he silently reassured her. _I promised I would protect you._ But there was a game to be played. A game of appearances. A game of restraint. A game he knew all too well. So he returned his attention to the Allfather as they took her away. But the guards thoughtfully acknowledged his seething gaze and they didn’t go far – simply out of his reach.

“What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” Loki said deadpan.

“You escaped your cell.”

“I did not,” he gruffly replied. “Not once. And this woman can attest to that. Whole-heartedly,” he added, his mind lingering on their first real touch that he was already missing.

Odin’s frown deepened. “As usual, you dance around the truth. I will assume that your body remained, whilst your magic, by some means, did not. You broke the confines of your imprisonment, if not in body than in principle. And this woman stands as proof of that as well.” Loki’s eyes narrowed. “She fell upon Hel’s doorstep and yet here she stands. By your intervention.”

“And for once I am the more compassionate,” Loki scoffed. “You would have left her to die!”

“I did,” he said matter-of-factly. “By your interference you have only prolonged what is inevitable. And there is still the matter of the guard you murdered. And you will make no argument for that,” he continued, silencing Loki’s explanation. “For these crimes, your sentence must be reevaluated.”

His frown deepened. “And what, dear Allfather, might that entail?”

“For now, you will be returned to the dungeons to await further punishment. As for the girl.” Loki’s brow beetled, the skin pinching above his nose. _Tread carefully, old man. Or I will find a way to make you eat your words._ He turned to his guard. “Have her escorted to a cell of a lesser proximity. I shall find means to deal with her as well.”

Thor approached him then, bearing this sickly disappointed countenance, just as the guards began to descend. “I am sorry, brother.”

“Are you?” Loki replied incredulously. “I fail to see any such sorrow in your non existent attempts to defend me.” Thor didn’t respond, not a jest in return. He caught him glance at Naomi who still stood just beyond his reach looking completely livid. And Thor suddenly donned a look of startling shame he’d seen only once before. _You – you’re one of the Avengers. I’ve been kidnapped. Please – I haven’t done anything wrong. Could you help me? Tell someone that this is a mistake. Please._ And Thor so uncharacteristically ignored her pleas. Loki eyed him curiously. “Tell me _brother_ , what is it you’re sorry for?”

His sudden aversion was rather telling. What could the mighty Thor possibly have to be ashamed of? Remorse and regret was hardly in his nature. Ordinarily he made a point to get himself into insurmountable trouble time and again. So what was it this time, Loki drawled to himself. _How have you wronged me this time?_ _What could possibly_ – and he found him glancing at Naomi again. _I was walking home_ , he heard her say once more, a sullen echo in the back of his mind. _And all of the sudden he was there._ He remembered her quietly recounting the incident that had brought her here. A lone attacker. Æsir for certain, but it could have been anyone. _But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?_

Loki looked him up and down, his eyes suddenly accusing until he unfortunately found what he was looking for. _I know I broke the skin more than once, but he didn’t even flinch._ At the crook of his elbow, three very distinct scars marked his skin. Un-pigmented flesh, raised just so. A few desperate attempts at escape marring his otherwise _perfect_ façade. But Thor? His mind had recreated the scene, but he could hardly believe it. Thor, self-proclaimed protector of Midgard, kidnapping one of the people he held so dear? And such was the birth of such foolish regrets. “That was you?” Loki growled. “You brought her here? Abducted her against her will!”

“Loki, I- ”

“You brought her here – you of all people – knowing what she would be subjected to?”

“Loki, I didn’t-”

“That she would be slowly starved to death without purpose? And I suppose you would have known all along. I should have known after you, floundering like a proper idiot, refused her cries for help.”

“This wasn’t what I wanted, Loki. I had no choice.”

“Of course not,” he laughed. “Just following orders. Errand boy for the Allfather, yet again.” He glanced at Odin, noting with nominal satisfaction that his aloof façade was slowly cracking. “You – you think yourself so noble and true and here you are: some petty brute snuffing out those too weak to defy you.”

“What hypocrisy is this? Are you not the man who brought an army to Midgard with the intent of conquering through innocent bloodshed? You laughed at the idea of preserving anything deemed beneath you.”

“I was only following your marvelous example, brother. Oh how many times you spoke of pillage and plunder and genocide. Hypocrisy! How do you think Asgard came to the head of the Nine Realms? It had little to do with diplomacy, I can assure you of that. What I did, I may have done out of spite and anguish, but my crimes do not exceed those of any warrior ever to rule these realms!”

“You started a war,” Thor growled beneath his breath.

He shoved Thor aside, taking a few steps up to the dais before turning back. “As did you. You brought us to the brink with our oldest enemy and at what price? Mere banishment – temporary exile – while I have been condemned to spend the rest of my life in a cage. We could debate this until the end of days, Thor, but it will ultimately lead us nowhere. Regardless of gravity, I have held myself accountable for what I have done, contrary to your obvious belief. Now I want to know what exactly _Naomi_ is being held accountable for?” He extended a hand in her direction, his heated gaze still heavy upon his brother and the Allfather.

“Nothing,” Odin said.

Loki faltered. “Nothing?” Loki’s jaw was momentarily slack before his teeth clenched. Despite what he’d said, he had never actually believed she could have been snatched without reason – that was too cruel. Even for the Allfather.

“Your assumptions are correct,” he continued without emotion. “She may have been taken unjustly. But not without reason.” He caught his mother’s questioning gaze. She’d been surprisingly quiet until now, but they had effectively seized her attention now. So here lay the demon she spoke of. “She was to be a martyr for a worthy cause.”

“And what cause is that?” Loki spat.

“To teach you a lesson.”

At first he was confused, but when his mind finally caught up, he was dumbfounded. _I was watching her die._ At the time, it was merely a disgusting observation, but now a true intent. “You brought her here to kill her- ”

“No,” he quickly interjected. “She was carefully monitored by healers to ensure that she never crossed a line of no return. She was hand selected for her strength and endurance. I was confident she could survive. And if not, all the more truth to the illusion. But the end was not to kill her needlessly, but for you to understand – empathize – with the people you selfishly murdered. Perhaps in watching someone else suffer needlessly, maybe you would finally regret what you have done.”

“I do regret what I’ve done!” The thought passed his lips even before he’d fully formed it. But he did – on some level. Having seen Naomi in her most desperate hour, knowing the family members she worried about and the life she almost lost, he did. He felt remorseful and disgusted to think it could have been him. That he could have caused that pain. That in his attack she could have been among the dead. Perhaps it had not been the Allfather’s intent to bring some _relationship_ into this tortuous game, but it had and it achieved his end far simpler than he ever thought it could. “I do,” he said again, this time knowing full well what he was saying. “Through her, I have seen the pain I’ve caused. I took for granted how greatly I was blinded by the Tesseract. I simply never saw it that way. But here, with Naomi, I saw the other side. And she didn’t have to die for me to understand that.”

Frigga smiled, that glimmer of hope glowing thankfully brighter. A short glance back to Naomi earned him a similar stare and a smile pulling at her lips. But when he turned back to the Allfather, his grim determination looked even worse. “The sentiment is appreciated, Loki. But I can’t trust you anymore. You have brought me to a place where I believe you’d say anything to get what you want.” And just like that, Loki’s only attempt at genuine honesty was met with ignorant disbelief. He signaled to the guards. “Take him away.”

“Odin, please.” Frigga finally stepped in, approaching his throne in a hurry. “Please reconsider this. This is the sincerest I have seen Loki in such a long time. I have spoken with this woman and _our son_ ,” she reminded him. “He is telling you that he regrets what he’s done. Please. Give him a chance.”

“You are always so quick to defend him – he is a criminal.”

“And I am his mother!” She rested heavy on the arms of the seat, ensuring that she was heard. “Odin, please. I have seen them suffer down there and far beyond the realm of justice. I can _hardly_ condone what you have done, but he has learned the lesson you laid out for him. Perhaps not in the way you had perceived, but he has learned it. This woman, she has found a place in his heart. I have seen it. Won’t you please, just reconsider?”

Loki peered past the guards to where Naomi stood, still completely surrounded and looking more panicked than ever. When she caught his stare, she mouthed something he couldn’t quite read. _Damn these shackles._ He turned back when he heard Odin stir. Loki tried desperately to read him – to find some semblance of deliverance. His hands shook in tight fists as he waited for him to speak again, willing himself not to look over his shoulder. When he finally looked up again, his face looked hardened. And his odds only looked worse.

“Loki will continue to face justice for the crimes he has committed. I fear I will never see proof enough to absolve him of such grievous sins.”

His heart fell into his stomach and his blood burned with panic. He rushed forward as the guards braced his shoulders. “What of Naomi?” he demanded.

“She will be dealt with here accordingly.”

The fear flared again. To be dealt with. It could mean any of a hundred horrible and unjust ends. He couldn’t imagine – after seeing the lengths that Odin had gone to already – what would become of her. But he couldn’t bear to see her put to work as some servant, further tormented, left to the devices of a place already so unkind to her. He watched as the guards began to drag her from the room. She fought as valiantly as she had on day one, but this time even less effectively. She tugged hard on their grip only to be shrugged off and silenced. “Let me go! You can’t keep me here like this! Let me go!”

He was chilled to the bone, hearing the panic in her voice – the same unimaginable fear that had completely smothered his every logical thought. _This is not happening. Not again. I have to do something._ _I promised. I promised to protect her._ He had already lost her once and it could not happen again. “Loki! Loki, please!” He had never heard her beg. She demanded and complained and threatened. But never had she begged. Not even when she was starved nearly to her death. Not even when she was raped. Had she heard something? Did the guards behind her know what was to become of her? What if they intended to kill her? “ _Loki!_ ”

It didn’t matter. Whether she was in danger of death or something far more trivial, he could no longer ignore her cries. Not hers. Not anymore. He, through indirect fault, had brought her here. She was forced into this Hel for his selfish hunger for power and suffering. This was his fault. And in that brief moment he wondered if his debt to her could ever be repaid. His mind whirled trying to catch the solution as his thoughts spun around and around, shedding their sanity in leaps and bounds. If they took her away, he would never see her again. He’d be banished back to the dungeons – alone for a tortuous eternity – wondering what became of her forever. He wouldn’t take that chance.

_I will see you safely home, Naomi. One way or another._

He slammed the heel of his boot into the closest foot he could locate and promptly dodged to avoid the retaliation that followed. While he was low and hunched, he twisted the guard’s knee with a sickening crack, sending him to the floor howling in pain. Loki rolled to avoid an uppercut aimed at rending his head from his shoulders. He leapt up from behind and hooked his chain round the other’s neck and yanked him to the floor with brutal force. Crossing his wrists and bringing them to his chest, the metal chain tightened around his throat until he slipped silently into unconsciousness.

In the mere seconds that had passed, no one moved. The other guards still stood at the ready, Thor was too startled to do anything more than stare. Odin was on his feet, Gungnir in hand but like everyone else frozen in the sudden chaos he’d created. And then like a waterfall, they descended.

In his haste to avoid the incoming assault, his instincts summoned his magic and he was greeted with a jarring pain in his wrists as the binders seared his flesh. Well that wouldn’t do. Tiny jolts of electric energy slithered through his veins making the whole of his body ache. He clenched his fists until the pain subsided, all the while charging toward Naomi and the onslaught that was about to take place between them. He met the next attacker with an elbow to the soft spot of his armor and the next was run through with the sword of the former. But he couldn’t very well wield a weapon with his hands chained together. So he tested their limits again. As the next guard made a futile attempt, he pressed his palm hard against the warm flesh of his cheek. His hand turned blue as a cold radiated from his core and then burned the skin that met his freezing fingertips. He fell, like the others, nursing his frostbitten face.

Loki met the Allfather’s livid countenance with an unforgiving scarlet glare as he took the chain between his fingers and enveloped it with ice. And then, catching it on the helm of an approaching guard, the brittle metal links shattered. That helped, but it was no better than being stuck in that norn-forsaken cell. _Naomi_. She had finally disappeared from his line of sight, but her voice still echoed from the hall.

He was so close. Less than a stride length from the doorway when the reinforcements arrived. The air left his lungs as he was body slammed by the first attacker and then dog piled by the rest. As far as strength was concerned, Loki was pathetically outmatched, so he tugged and squirmed, accomplishing nothing as their combined weight continued to crush him. And the panic finally set in. “Naomi!” She didn’t respond. Why didn’t she respond? He couldn’t keep the images of her starving form from his mind. Nor the muffled sounds that carried through the ice when the guards took her. All the results of such a short time trapped here. And all his fault. _All my fault._ “Naomi!”

The weight lessened as he was slowly dragged to his feet, restrained by more guards than his frenzied mind could account for. But among the deafening clatter of armor and weaponry, he found a voice he recognized. _Thor._ His tone was harsh and demanding, but the words were lost to him – drowned out by his own pounding heart. _And Naomi._ Her voice rang loud in his ears – like a blade in his back or a thorn in his side. _You just stood there!_ _You didn’t do anything – you just stood there!_ He growled, struggling against the stocky and immovable forms of the guards that surrounded him. His wrists itched as his sei∂r sought to escape.

He felt the restraint lessen slightly, paired with a cry of war he knew all too well. A near literal roar as large hands clamped around a guard or two and tossed them away like ragdolls. _Thor._ But it was too late. _It’s too late._ They could be long gone already – she could be _gone_ already. _I should have done something. I have to do something. I_ will _do something._

The burn returned, scalding the flesh of his wrists. It radiated into his hands and up his arms. His magic was so tightly leashed, with something of a choker collar no less. The more he struggled, the deeper its metal prongs were imbedded in his skin. There was only so far he could go. Already he feared what would happen if he strained any further, but he couldn’t stop. His entire body was a unified burn, only growing hotter by the second until the guards were forced to release him and he dropped in a writhing heap to the floor. His flesh, normally cool or almost cold, turned searing hot as his blood boiled under his skin. A thin fog of steam condensed on the surface of his skin where fire met the crisp morning air.

And suddenly Thor’s voice was clear. “Loki, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can fix it! Brother, please!”

That agonizing heat penetrated his chest and his heart pounded erratically, threatening to escape the confines of his ribcage. It crawled up his neck – his veins pulsing uncomfortably. His throat constricted and his breath came in short and shallow gasps. He felt the blood in his throat – felt it pool in his lungs – seeping out of his organs as the constraint continued to destroy them. “Loki stop! This is madness! You can’t do this!”

 _But I have to do this. I have to do something._ He tried to focus on her as the pain intensified. He knew it. He remembered it. Had she not stopped him the last time, he would have assuredly killed himself. _But I have to do something. I have to help her. I have to save her!_ And he would most assuredly kill himself. Everything was garbled in his ears all of the sudden. He could vaguely identify his brother’s voice, but it was like he was suddenly distant. He lost the feeling in his limbs and for a moment he was submerged in a startling darkness, before his mind finally made its escape.

 

The old man’s words were still ringing in Naomi’s ears as the guards dragged her away. After many long months in that cell, observing Loki and his few interactions with supposed family members, she had made her assumptions about his complex situation. But it was worse than she thought. His father was unbelievably cruel. She wasn’t totally surprised to hear that she had indeed been kidnapped for no reason. That revelation was dwarfed, almost insignificant, as she listened with teary eyes as his own brother and father criticized him at every turn, offering no reprieve. She had a brief moment of hope with his selfless words and a bold defense by his mother, but in the end, he was met with complete and utter rejection. No hope. And she was stunned with his response.

“Loki!” she called after him.

He fought so valiantly – aggressively. She’d never seen him like this. But confined to a cell with nothing necessary to fight for, she had only imagined the warrior he might be. Even at this distance and being persistently tugged upon, she saw how he danced around his adversaries, meeting each of them with strength unbecoming of his slender form. He had tried for the diplomacy, the slight of tongue he was known for – the silver tongue as he’d been called. But once more violence had become their only alternative.

Naomi didn’t know what to expect of this. She silently prayed to be let off easy – to just take Loki and go without any further trouble or bloodshed. That was hardly the case. As the guards dragged her through the enormous golden doors, she heard him scream for her, but her reply was silenced by a large hand over her face yet again. Her jaws clamped down on a finger or two but he refused to release, even when she tasted blood. She screamed against the skin, whilst she clawed at anything she could reach until she was restrained with her arms completely outstretched. She was liable to break at the elbows as she continued to fight their hold.

She chomped down on another one of his fingers and at last, he released. But it had little to do with the bleeding teeth marks in his hand. With her arms abruptly released, she stumbled forward to her hands and knees. And there was Loki. He appeared out of nowhere, ambushing her escorts with a vengeance. He took no prisoners this time. Four guards dropped dead with four very well placed stabs. His dagger dripped with their combined blood. He stood over her, chest heaving, hands shaking, and looking absolutely lost. He sank down beside her, looking literally weighed down by so much armor and leather. She could see the god in him now, not that she’d bothered to question that up until now. His raven black hair was tamed like she’d hardly seen it. With that superficial once over, he seemed better, but he fell onto his hands with a sudden loss of energy.

She hurriedly crawled forward, snaking a hand around his wrist. He recoiled with a hiss, violently rubbing the place she’d barely touched. With a tiny mess of green haze and sparks, he shed the skin from his hands all the way up to his elbows. The cool, alabaster skin disappeared in little ashen pieces to reveal horrible lesions and burns that climbed up his very raw, red flesh. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real!_ She reached forward again with the lightest touch she could manage. But this time her hand passed right through, but not without some subtle hint of sensation. She passed through his face twice before her hand met flesh again. And in that moment, he fought to hold this glamour. But his eyes turned bloodshot and he turned a sickly shade of white. His cheek was clammy under her fingertips.

“Naomi,” he said quietly.

“Loki – you _promised_ – you promised me you wouldn’t do this – not again.”

His smile was pained. “I promised you a great many things I’m afraid.” He tugged her closer, his shaking hands tight around hers. He swallowed hard, the sound catching in his throat.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said hopefully.

His mind was very suddenly present, his eyes wide and panicked. “Yes. Yes I do.” His grip on her hand was bruising. “Please listen. You have to run.”

“What? Loki, no- ”

“I _need_ you to run. I know you remember the way. Follow the bridge to the end – the rainbow bridge. The gatekeeper, Hiemdall, he has seen what’s happened today. I know he will understand. He will send you home.” Naomi could only shake her head, tightening her grip in his fingers until the circulation completely disappeared. “I want nothing more than to see you safely home, but I’m afraid this is as far I can take you.”

“Loki, please don’t do this.” Naomi clung to his presence here, to the point her fingernails dug into his jaw and dragged nervously up and down while her other hand ran through his sweat-dampened hair. For so long in his presence she had refused this – this contact, because she knew that it wasn’t real. Not for him. Not for her. Not really. But he gave her no choice. She clung to him desperately. He wasn’t saying goodbye. He just wasn’t. _This isn’t goodbye!_ _This is not how it ends._ “Loki, please. Please don’t.”

“I have done what I had to, in order to keep at least one promise I’ve made to you. I promised I would protect you – no matter the cost.” Her jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would crack. “Please, Naomi. Don’t wait. We don’t have the time anymore.” His voice seemed empty, the sounds merely an echo reverberating through the golden hall. His eyes further lost their color until she saw right through them – through him. Her hand fisted as the hand to which she held became little more than an illusion. “Loki!” But he was gone. With a whiff of ozone and a bright green burst of fog, he was gone. Gone? _Gone._

Naomi took a moment to survey the carnage around her, the guards laid to waste in Loki’s final act – his last stitch effort to protect her and to make amends for something that wasn’t his fault. In spite of the blame put upon him by his would-be family, she didn’t blame him. She couldn’t. Nor would she after all they’d been through together. But beyond regret and shame, he had blinded himself with determination to get her home. Of all things, that was his directive. That was his last request. _That was stupid. Sentimental and endearing, but so stupid._

For the longest time she’d thought of nothing but home. For the longest time, her thoughts were consumed by escape and freedom and a way back to the life that used to be. He showed her the way – he showed her the way home. She stood, her eyes tracing the path she couldn’t see. Long winding halls until she escaped the palace to be met with an endlessly star-filled sky and the rainbow bridge. She could go home. _I can go home._ But every attempt to run left her feet further rooted to the ground. Her eyes found the place where Loki had been and they didn’t move. Home wasn’t quite where she left it.

He was willing to give his life for her to have a chance. Only a chance. He sacrificed himself – _for me._ _I should be grateful. I can’t waste his sacrifice. I can’t. But I can’t leave him._ She finally lifted her gaze, this time back the way she’d come, to where Loki surely was. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. _Not yet._ But she should run. He wanted her to run. He wanted her to go home, even if he couldn’t take her there. She growled. “Now, of all times, you decide to be selfless!” Her voice bounced from arch to arch as far as she could hear. _I can’t leave him._ “ _Fuck_.”

She lifted an enormous sword from the sheath of a fallen guard, the tip just scratching the polished stone as she heaved the thing to a slightly threatening stance before turning back for the hall she had only just escaped. If Loki did somehow survive this, he was probably going to kill her for what she was about to attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't freak out! The next chapter has already been posted!


	16. Chapter 16

Everyone was silent. Everyone was still. And all in a way that made it seem like time had simply stopped. But the pause button had only gotten stuck and soon the grim reality of it would return. Naomi learned then that silence has a sound – a very definite sound. First it’s a dull ringing: the absence of something truly audible, before everything else overwhelms it. A breath barely exhaled is as loud as a train whistle. A tiny sniffle sounds like an avalanche. Everything resonates so loudly, in ways it is worse than if hundreds of sounds fought over one another. Predominantly, the room was staring occupants, breathless and unbelieving. If stares had sound, she wondered. If stares had sound, hers would be screaming.

Loki lay on the floor, half curled on his side, his spine awkwardly twisted. She watched – watched closely until her eyes were dry – to spot the rise and fall of his chest. But it wasn’t there. He didn’t move. She into the room, half a step at a time, her wide eyes never leaving him. She gripped the hilt of the sword for dear life as she finally came close enough to see what had become of him. A perfect puddle of blood had accumulated around his face, no doubt staining his cheek where it was pressed against the floor. His eyes were still open, partially lidded, but their once vivid green was now diluted and pale and lifeless.

Naomi didn’t take note of Thor’s presence until she was nearly on top of him. She assumed the same of him the way he suddenly startled, though without much concern. He knelt beside his brother, hands fisted against each other in his lap. His eyes were wet. He didn’t care about her or her previously unwelcome presence. No one moved to intercept her, even though they were all aware of her by now. Loki’s shell of a body was the chilling center of everyone’s attention. She hovered over him, the blade of the sword dragging slightly, her grip having slackened considerably. She watched him in silence as the others did, for an eternity it seemed, until she snapped back to her reality. This _is_ real.

Turning to fully take in the mourning man beside her, she remembered. He kidnapped her. He brought her here. She saw the wounds in his arm that had led Loki to that conclusion. She noted their king on the dais – Loki’s not-father – staring as wide-eyed and lost as the rest. And then there were all of the guards standing idly by. All of them, unmoving and useless. Her grip tightened, her hand fisted around her weapon. “Help him,” she said. Her whisper echoed loudly in the quiet. “Somebody help him.” Louder this time.

Thor looked up, the whole of him utterly defeated. “It’s too late.”

Without warning, she swung the sword and hit Thor square in the cheek. “ _It’s not too late!_ ” Surprisingly she had only nicked him under the eye, in spite of her concussive strength blow. He recoiled at her startling aggression, more so when she raised the blade again, threatening to inflict the proper damage this time. The few surviving guards seized her, but this time she would not be silenced. The sword slipped out of her hand and fell with a resounding clatter to the floor, the metal on marble ruckus snapping the entire room from its fog.

She squirmed until Loki’s shirt tore and she slipped free, sliding swiftly to the floor at his side. She felt the guard’s heavy hands again, threatening to steal her away. But not this time. _Not this time._ Loki’s mother rushed to their aide, or so she suspected. But instead, miraculously, she settled in beside her, one hand gentle on Loki’s side and the other quickly soothing the anger in her shoulders. The attempt only boiled her blood further, as she tugged Loki tighter into her grasp, fisting the wrinkled fabric of his shirt. But her maternal touch continued its crusade and Naomi heard her quiet voice over her shoulder, “Let her be.”

The guards retreated.

Naomi tried to escape her as well, but she only moved closer. So Naomi ignored her instead. She turned Loki onto his back, grimacing when she saw the blood marring his beautiful pale white skin. She pressed his eyelids shut, the half-stare sickening her to look at. Pressing her ear to his chest she found no sound, no steady thump, no rise and fall, not even a gurgle. Nothing. “Loki?” she called quietly. Her hand brushed through his hair without response. “Loki, you promised me. You promised you wouldn’t do this again.” Loki’s mother, the woman called Frigga, her soft and slightly aged hands moving up and down her arm. Her forearm would lose feeling before long at her pace. Already, she hardly felt it. She felt Loki’s soft hair stick and knot around her fingers. She felt his skin, growing colder and more rigid. She felt reality – cruel fate – tugging on the hairs at the back of her neck. _He’s gone._ But it burned her to even consider it. “I know you’re still there – I know it. I know it.”

She looked him up and down and her eyes latched onto his wrists and the shackles that bound him. And the wounds they’d inflicted. Burns not unlike her own. They reached under his sleeves until they surfaced again on his neck. Beneath his shirt, she was sure his entire torso was a mess of scalded flesh. She was afraid to touch him now, but she reached for the binders. They were like two bracelets, each with half of the chain still attached. The links at the end were tarnished and darker than the rest. A result of whatever magic he tried to use, no doubt. She tugged at them gently so as not to disturb his tortured wrists. But they didn’t budge. Not even slightly.

She eyed Frigga with pleading eyes – desperation like she’d never felt before, as she continued to fidget with the shackles. Her blue eyes darkened, the vibrant glimmer of hope only a shadow now. It was understanding on a level Naomi wished she could reach. Whether she knew or not if he could be saved, she waved for one of the guards without saying a word. The moment the binders came free, she had hoped that he would simply wake up like nothing had happened, but he didn’t move other than an involuntary shudder and a slight twitch at his wrists.

She further admired the wounds; the darker parts – the deepest parts – left a shadow of his incarceration. Her fingertips barely brushed it, hoping that he might shed his skin again. As his projection had concealed its hurt, she wished the wounds would wash away and leave him as he had been. But nothing happened. The burns were still warm, but the rest of him was cold and dead. She pulled at the collar of his shirt to see the true extent of the damage.

His veins were all marked with twisting paths of electric energy. Up his neck in whip-cracks and sickening swirls. She felt for his pulse again, before she trailed her hands to his heart. He thought it so black and empty and admittedly, for a time she thought so too. Every word from his mouth was a sharp and jagged stab, as cold and brittle as ice. But he hardly knew kindness – had never been shown friendship. And if the years preceding were anything like what she’d seen today, it was only fitting to reject anyone who even tried.

But there was something there. There was something within that bleak, black, tightly spun web of mayhem and misfortune worth fighting for.

Naomi looked Loki over again, knowing in the back of her mind that this wasn’t the end. _This is not goodbye._ She dug the base of her palm into his sternum and put all of her recently lessened weight against it. He wasn’t human and she wasn’t strong. She had no idea if it would work – if it even could work – but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. She could feel all of the uneven flesh beneath the weight of her hands – more burns. But she persisted, his body bouncing slightly with each compression. When nothing happened, she pressed harder. Harder until she was sure his sternum would crack. But she wasn’t strong enough. The barely scabbed burn on her hand cracked, tore open and stung with devilish persistence. She tucked it aside and continued, though with even less effectiveness.

But in the end, his heart was still, his skin was cold – dead. _Gone?_

“I’m sorry that this is the way things had to be,” the old man said at last, pulled from his self-induced fog. Naomi glanced up, tightly gritting her teeth until her entire jaw burned and beetling her eyebrows together until she was sure they’d be stuck. _Sorry?_ He was _sorry_? Her entire body felt white hot as blood surged through her veins. She braced Loki’s shirt in handfuls, feeling the rough skin crack under her hands. “Sorry?” Her voice was nothing more than a snarl that only Frigga could have possibly heard.

            “Loki owed a debt, but I never thought he would give his own life to pay it.” He quietly contemplated things again with the utmost despair and disbelief. “You’re free to go,” he said finally, making some dismissive gesture. “I will have my guards escort you home.”

She made no move to leave. She only clung to Loki tighter and all the while barely withholding tears – or screams. But as this man – their king – retreated into this half-assed state of mourning and the guards moved to retrieve his body, she forgot her restraint. And everything came free.

“No!” she screamed, dragging Loki further into her and further out of their reach. “No. No. No!”

“He’s gone, Naomi. You have to let him go,” Frigga said quietly. Naomi shirked out of her grasp, arms wrapped around Loki’s neck with her face pressed to his.

“This is what he wanted,” the old man added.

Naomi looked up, the flesh around her eyes was red and raw, but her brown-eyed stare was piercing. “This – this is what he wanted?”

“He wanted you to return home – he gave his life so you could make it home alive. This is what he wanted.”

“You didn’t give him a choice!” She gave the closest guard a good shove as she screamed. “This – this is the ultimatum you left him with! It didn’t have to be this way! You _made_ it this way! How could you be so cruel? And to your own son, no less! Discipline I can understand. Justice I can understand. But not this! No one deserves this!” The Allfather steeled his expression almost as it had been before, but the weary and mourning edge remained. He opened his mouth to speak but in the end, he never found words. “I saw him down there,” Naomi continued, her voice quieting only slightly. “I saw the side of him that you don’t want to see – because you’ve abandoned it and to even think to accept it again isn’t worth the effort. He’s not a monster. He’s a man – a god – _whatever!_ And he hurts and he feels – he regrets. He’s _sorry_. Why can’t that be enough? What more must you put us through before you’ll be satisfied?”

Odin was quiet, settling into his throne again looking completely spent. “I’m not going home – not without him.” _Not without you._ Naomi pointlessly continued forcing compressions into his chest until her arms were visibly shaking. And until Frigga finally intervened. She stilled her hands with one of the saddest smiles she had ever seen. “It’s not his heart, dear. It’s his mind.”

She only stared, the words not processing. His mother ran her fingers through his hair as Naomi imagined she’d done thoughtlessly for his entire life. Such a simple thing. She took one of his hands and brought it gently to her cheek, entangling his fingers in her messy curls. How many times had he done so himself? How many times had he never known what it felt like? How much did he really want to know? Enough that he was willing to die for it. His fingers were freezing – unresponsive – _dead_. _It’s not his heart. It’s his mind._ She stared at him; his brow was still slightly furrowed from his last stitch effort in life. _It’s in his mind._

She remembered this. She remembered this with gruesome clarity. Thirty long seconds of tortuous waiting. Waiting for him to wake up. Or waiting for nothing to happen at all. _It’s his mind._ Or rather, it wasn’t. Her eyes flashed around the room, as if she might find him floating around somewhere, his mind trapped in a limbo between its last place of residence and the original that lay dead on the floor. She imagined that green haze that often accompanied his magic. She imagined it caught in the subtle air currents, pulled in one direction or another, but ultimately lost in a realm all its own. The most terrifying emptiness.

“You said you wouldn’t do this again,” she said quietly. “You promised.” She adjusted him in her lap, pulling him closer again. “But I know you’re still here. I know it,” she whispered, her voice cracking into a higher pitch. “And wherever you are, I know you can hear me. Please come back.” She grit her teeth, attempting to smother the sobs that had already started to shake her. “Please – please don’t leave me.” But Loki was quiet, lips gently parted with the stretch of his neck, but no matter the silence she waited and waited to hear him breathe again. To hear anything. To be hushed again by his soothing tone. To hear words of comfort once so foreign to him. She would have settled even for the cold and stabbing jests that had preceded all of this – words ill spoken without much thought.

But there was nothing.

 _It’s not fair,_ she thought. _This isn’t fair._ It was finally real. They were finally together. She could reach for him, press her hands to his skin, but – but he wasn’t there to feel it. Same as before. “Loki. Loki, I’m here now,” she began again, clearing her throat. “We’re together now – you have to wake up. Please – you have to wake up.” She leaned closer, almost hesitantly, before she brought their lips together, remembering with painful clarity their last kiss that almost was. She remembered his soft but insistent pull, warding away her anxiety, his lips quickly warming against hers. But they were cold this time, dry and cracked and she tasted blood. She kissed him over and over again, each time harsher than the one before. “Come on, Loki, wake up.” She pressed kisses to his neck and his cheek and his forehead. Everywhere. Losing her composure more and more as he failed to respond. “ _Dammit, Loki!_ ” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, his head nearly hitting the marble. “ _You promised you would protect me! You promised you’d be there for me! Loki, you promised! Now wake up you fucking liar!_ ” She was one short swing from bruising his jaw when he finally stirred.

If she had blinked at that moment she might have missed it, but she saw it. She waited, eyes wide and nearly stuck that way, praying it hadn’t been her imagination. Praying that this was real. His eyes pinched shut a little tighter and he stiffened in her grasp, his fingers twitching just slightly. _Come on – come on, Loki. I know you’re there. Just a little further._ She saw the sudden struggle in his face, the fight to accept this world again. She grabbed his hand, tightly twining their fingers as he started to shake. “Come on, Loki. Come back,” she chanted quietly through gritted teeth. She ran her finger along his lip and chin and wiped the blood on her already ruined shorts. She rubbed insistently at the stains on his cheek and forehead, unsuccessfully clearing the skin. Anything to quicken the wait for him to finally wake again.

She felt a familiar energy, one she’d come to identify with his magic. It suddenly swelled in his chest, filling his lungs until it finally broke the seal and he gave a long raspy breath that made his entire body shake, convulse nearly. His chest rose high and his back arched off of her lap. His heart thumped wildly as he coughed the last of the blood from his throat. And then his eyes finally opened, their vibrant green nearly restored. Before he was completely coherent, his grip clenched around her hand and his other hand blindly searched for her, clamping onto whatever he could find. He dragged her closer, his nails raking against her back, desperate as ever to keep her there. She was soon flush against his very burnt chest, but even then he was scrambling to bring her closer, his grip tightening almost to the point of pain. But her mind was numb to nearly everything then, save for Loki’s very firm heartbeat pounding against her chest. “I knew you were alive,” she cried, the sound muffled by sobs and fabric. “I knew it.”

“Naomi – I’m so sorry,” Loki said, his voice raw and hoarse. “I’m so so sorry.” His hand braced her jaw as he returned her kiss – every single one, over and over again until her skin was completely flushed. “I’m so sorry, Naomi. I – I didn’t know what else to do.”

Naomi smiled, managing a short laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. “I think I liked you better before you turned into a selfless idiot.” She wiped her face on her free hand, before she braced him roughly at his collar, his body gravitating naturally towards her touch. She brought as much of her usual grit to the fore as she glared at him. “Stop trying to kill yourself or I swear to god I’m going to do it myself.”

Loki continued smiling, clearly unfazed by her empty threat as he leaned up and kissed her again. His hands shook where they met her skin but she relished even the tiniest sensation. She watched him, noting the pain etched in his features, so carelessly smoothed over with a look of peace she’d never known of him. But it was something she’d always wished was there. His tired eyes watched her, even when his mother returned, speaking softly, tending to the wounds his magic had neglected. And in that moment when the world slowed, she met him in that temporary place of peace, a void among the chaos and the horrors that had surrounded them for so long. For a moment, it was perfect – her hand in his, his thumb tracing symbols in the back of her hand, her gaze trapped in his, a soft smile playing at his lips, silence, safety – before reality dragged them back again.

Her line of sight to him obscured, slowly her gaze found Odin again. And then her blood boiled and her skin crawled. And her world was reduced to a new, yet familiar emotion.

 _Loki may be alive, but that will never make you less at fault,_ her thoughts growled with undercurrents of aggression that made even her blood still. She could feel in her heart, that had she the means, she would gut him where he stood. Loki never told her what he did to the guard that had attacked her, but the evisceration she imagined seemed the only fitting punishment now. He looked upon them with weary eyes, and his age clear upon his face – half standing, half slumped upon his throne. His attention alone disgusted her. _I’ve wished death on many in jest before, but for you, I would sell my soul to see you rot. See you suffer forever._

_See you pay for what you’ve done._

Naomi turned, almost startled from her thoughts when Loki’s hand tightened around hers, his eyes following her heated gaze before that cool and calculating façade returned. He moved to finally stand again, aided by his mother, and with Naomi pressed against him, eyeing Odin like a very irritated guard dog. She had both the bark and the bite if necessary. In her periphery she saw him usher his mother aside, more than likely assuring her he would survive whatever happened next. Naomi wanted nothing less than slaughter, but the look she found on Loki’s face spoke volumes of something entirely different. It wasn’t quite defeat. No. Not that. But his features lacked the proud and regal edge they’d held for so long. She saw him literally swallow his pride, the idea settling in waves of exhaustion that eroded every mask he’d ever worn until he was left completely exposed.

“Allfather,” he began, his voice as steady as he could keep it. “Hear what I have to say.” The old man was still quiet, his softened gaze drifting elsewhere, lost in thoughts not worth exploring. “Had it ever been my intent to make amends, you have shown me that it would not be worth my effort. There is not a thing more I could have done. Everything I ever did for so long I did in a vain attempt to meet your expectations. To win your damn affections. But I’ve nothing left to prove to you. There is a part of me that wishes to thank you. Your act of torment was a gift I hardly deserved. But the more dominant half of me wants nothing more than to see you dead – too see you suffer for everything you’ve done to me. But more than anything, I want to see Naomi home as I promised her.”

Odin looked up after a moment, eyebrows knotted like he’d completely forgotten they were there. And regaining only a smidgen of composure he spoke again. “My word still stands. She is free to go.”

 _But not without him!_ Naomi tugged on Loki’s hand. Her freedom wasn’t enough. Déjà vu crept into the corners of her vision. “And what of my sentence,” Loki quickly inquired, his cool composure keeping her anxiety smothered. But Loki didn’t breathe as he waited – as they waited – for the verdict that would change everything – _that could destroy everything._ But Naomi saw it, maybe even before Loki did. The old man didn’t have the fight anymore.

“You take her home. You return here – you serve final terms. And then I will end your captivity,” he said quietly, the argument gone from his voice as he sank deeper into the throne.

“Can I wait until morning?” His voice was so quiet it only just reached him.

Loki’s hand shook in hers as the moments passed without his response. Odin was quiet, contemplating with an undertone of illness she couldn’t place. But it was only the second worse silence of the afternoon. “Just go,” Odin said. Loki moved to inquire of his vague reply, but the old man’s aura turned from pain to palpable insanity in a second. “I said _go_! Take my generosity for what it is, before I change my mind!” Gungnir booming against the dais, the entire room dispersed.

The guards fell back into their stead. Frigga, with a knowing almost-smile towards Loki, returned to Odin’s side for a conversation not worth overhearing. Loki rushed them from the room, having received the only permission he needed. And then there was Thor standing idly where he had been since Naomi had turned the entire room on its head. But as Loki passed, gifting him with a customary sneer, he finally moved.

“Brother, I need to speak with you.” He reached for Loki, but he shirked away, tugging Naomi behind him.

“Then speak,” he growled.

Twiddling his large hands absently, he began in a voice so small for his hulking form. “I do apologize for all of this, Loki. But I want you to know that I only agreed to this – I only took her because father told me it might mean your freedom. It was not made known to me what she would suffer down there. But I have heard rumors of-”

“Matters we need not address,” Loki snapped.

“I didn’t know. Had I known, I would never have agreed to this. You know – of all people – I don’t have the heart for it. But I suppose I thought it might help. I recalled my time spent among the people of Midgard. I thought perhaps-”

“I know what you thought, you saccharine oaf. I won’t thank you, but know in some twisted context that I am grateful.” Thor pulled a tiny smile, because that was as much an expression of gratitude as Loki could probably manage. Where his brother was concerned at least. _Or perhaps only where I am concerned._

Even still, he offered his brother a nod before hurrying off again. “Thank you, Miss Naomi, for what you’ve done for my brother.”

Naomi glanced over her shoulder to acknowledge his thankful and apologetic smile with a glare that barely conceded acceptance. “I’m not sorry for hitting you in the face.” She heard Loki almost laugh, wrapping his arm around her waist. But when she glanced up at him again, his expression was just tired. Naomi clung to him as they finally made their escape, content in that moment that he was there – that he could be there for one more night – but only one more night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it. Freedom! Sort of? Let me know what you thought! Posting these two chapters in particular has terrified me since the beginning… Too much? Not enough? Not the just end you'd hoped for? Whatever. It is what it is! But I'd still like to know what you thought! Teeanks everyone for reading! And sorry again for the wait! XOXO
> 
> Please Note: THE STORY IS NOT OVER!!! I've gotten many worried comments but I can assure you there are at least two more chapters!!! I would never end a story like that?!? Who does that!?! Who hurt you??? It's okay though. More chapters… and more than likely a sequel. You'll be okay. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Let this be your first bit of fan fiction in the New Year! And it's finally something not so awful… Enjoy ma lovelies!

_Loki, it doesn’t have to be this way. We can fix it!_ He’d never heard his brother sink to a place of such desperation – that he would bargain. Even if his decision had already been made. _Loki stop! This is madness! You can’t do this!_ And his choice would never be swain. _I have to do this._ _I have to do something. I have to save her!_ And in all his life he’d never known such panic. The pain was rivaled by incidents in the past, but together it was a scarring combination. He felt himself drowned, the agony ebbing away until he felt nothing at all, every sensation survived only by his singular drive to save this woman who had utterly stolen his heart. He knew nothing else as he reached a point of no return. And like a tether snapping, his mind finally made its escape.

It had become a habitual action, honed with years of mischief and magic. His form re-collected as it had so many times before, but this time with nowhere to return. And so the whole of him staggered in a form barely fitting of a projection. And he clung to her in the only way he thought he’d ever know. A hollow touch and, for a time, only what he had imagined it to be. And in a way this was worse – to know her soft skin beneath his fingertips – to know the reassurance of her hand in his – and then to have it reduced once more to this. This empty existence – for one last, desperate attempt to make amends. To do what was right. To save her. _I have done what I had to, in order to keep at least one promise I’ve made to you. Please, Naomi. Don’t wait. We don’t have the time anymore._ Not anymore.

And before his eyes she was gone as his presence, real or not, was erased – as he abandoned her again. But she’d be safe this time. She could make it. _I know she can._ She could go home. She would be safe. Free. It was a moment he had imagined for so long now, but he’d never thought it would end like this. Not until the moment it struck him that he had no other choice. And in that moment he had known the Hel he’d accepted.

As her touch disappeared, as he was dragged from her grasp, he was hurtling through darkness – an endless void of existence he had for so long feared to return to. The branches of Yggdrasil had burned every nerve raw once before, and then left him torn apart, shredded within an inch of his sanity. But this was not the Void he remembered, this – no, this redefined even that horror.

He had foolishly hoped for a moment that he would return to his body, to find himself awake and recaptured, left once more to rot in that norn-forsaken cell. Even death would have been an acceptable alternative. Anything but this. Pulled at the seams by the vacuum of space was a tortuous end, but in this tumultuous whirlwind of emptiness, left only with himself – it was torment with no foreseeable end. There was no logic. There was no reason. There was no bargain that could be made. There were only the mind numbing, blood curdling thoughts that he had bottled and shelved in his subconscious. They were malicious whispers that festered, once calm and collected – and quiet. Now singing. Screaming. Chanting. Imagined spells that tore at his flesh. Very audible derision that brought a sick turn to his gut.

 _Monster._ Only a quiet hiss at first. _Monster._ Then a laugh when the sounds grew louder. _The monster parents tell their children about at night. The monster even_ you _had come to fear._ _Frost giant._ The words echoed around him with distaste. _But you were the monster even the Jotuns despised. A runt. Pathetic! My birthright – Your birthright was to die – cast out onto a frozen rock._ Abandoned. Unwanted. Forgotten. Adopted. But into a life whose expectations he could never amount to. Doomed for eternity to never belong. _If you could have told me what I was from the beginning –_ but what difference would that have made? _You are but a shadow._ A blemish. A disgrace. A disappointment. _Have I made you proud?_ An entire lifetime of taunts and jests rung in his ears, the sound – their words – piercing. Even now.

_Loki, it doesn’t have to be this way. Brother, please!_

_I’m not your brother! I never was._

_He told you my true parentage did he not?_ Born of a race of monsters. Raised among warriors. _But you were weak. You’ve always been weak. All you had was magic._ _And in the end even that failed you._ His wrists – erased from his field of vision within this vague existence – burned even now. His mind still registered a pain that wasn’t there. And the sear only burned brighter while the noise compounded, the voices multiplying. His own voice, self-loathing and hateful, prodded and stabbed until his very mind bled. Wounds reopened. Scars unhealed.

_You lack conviction._

_You give up this poisonous dream! You come home._

_But you have no home._

_You will spend the rest of your days in the dungeons._

Abandoned. Alone. Forgotten.

But not alone.

 _Poor, naïve, little mortal. Thinks herself so immensely important._ But she was. If only he’d known. _You didn’t do anything – you just stood there!_ And that moment superseded the rest. He heard her scream. Heard her cry. Saw her struggle. Heard her call his name. A scene only his mind had concocted. An awful symphony he had only imagined. But he watched – saw her wounded and starved _and raped_. Only this time she didn’t survive. _She was to be a martyr for a worthy cause – to teach you a lesson._

Within a hallucination so vivid, he saw her dragged away. True to the Allfather’s ruthless intent. He clawed at the glass until his fingers bled. Attacked it until his knuckles broke. Until she was gone. _Gone._ His hands braced his head in the darkness, his nails boring holes in his skin. And he screamed, the sound smothered by this void – drowned out by his own debilitating thoughts. But he screamed until his lungs profusely ached. Until his completely imagined body gave out. As dead as the original that was more than likely still bleeding out in the throne room.

He shook, his mind still pulsating in the stillness of an endless space. Every fault, every pain, every torment he’d ever endured dragged forth repeatedly until his entire existence was reduced to a single agonizing thrum. And he was hopeless to do anything but lay there and – _Loki._ At first he was certain it was simply another ploy by his self-loathing hallucinations, but it wasn’t his voice. Nor was it the Allfather’s patronizing tone. Or Thor’s.

_Loki, you promised me. You promised you wouldn’t do this again. I know you’re still there – I know it. I know it._

The voices were slowly silenced. All but hers. _Naomi._ Her tone, sad but insistent was nearly audible, echoing louder than the others had. Closer. In the darkness – in the void – in this limbo, there was nothing. But she was there. She’d come back, as he should have assumed. She was far too stubborn – too strong – to run. Even if it would have saved her damn life. He stilled when he felt a hand brush his wrist. The feather light touch moved through him in waves of nauseating sensation, the result of a feeling drawn without reference by a mind without a body. But he waited, mind open, to see if it might happen again. He felt the touch gravitate for only a moment before it disappeared, but replaced with a sudden clarity.

The sting in his wrists became little more than an itch. While he still drifted blindly through space, there were pockets of light, other sounds drifting past, quite voices – the ambience of the place he’d left behind. He was knocked sideways by a sudden pressure against his chest. Over and over, but with gradually lessened intensity. _She’s trying to save me._ _And I can feel this – I can hear her._ Not dead, he thought. Never dead. But trapped.

 _“I’m sorry that this is the way things had to be.”_ The Allfather’s voice broke the silence, his voice still foggy. Like he was speaking underwater. The pain in his chest stopped but Naomi’s touch remained, her hands firm against his flesh as the Allfather continued. _“Loki owed a debt, but I never thought he would give his own life to pay it. You’re free to go.”_

And then he heard her scream. Felt her cry; warm tears a tangible sting against his face. _“This is what he wanted.”_

_“You didn’t give him a choice! This – this is the ultimatum you left him with! It didn’t have to be this way! You made it this way! How could you be so cruel? And to your own son, no less! Discipline I can understand. Justice I can understand. But not this! No one deserves this!”_

The air further cleared when she spoke and he could almost place himself among them, not observe, but visualize. And he had all too clear an image of the woman that valiantly – _foolishly_ – defended him. _“I saw him down there. I saw the side of him that you don’t want to see – because you’ve abandoned it and to even think to accept it again isn’t worth the effort. He’s not a monster. He’s a man – a god – whatever! And he hurts and he feels – he regrets. He’s sorry._ _I’m not going home – not without him.”_

She tried. She tried to resuscitate him. She tried until he could almost feel the ache in her arms – in her heart. _Naomi, I’m sorry._ He wanted to reach out to her. To work the knots from her shoulders. Wipe the tears from her eyes. Anything. Anything but this. He had to get back. And then she stilled.

_“It’s not his heart, dear. It’s his mind.”_

Loki felt her fingers twirl in his hair, such a familiar sensation. And then he found his hand tangled in Naomi’s hair, her curls dusting his fingers before they met the damp skin of her cheek _. “You said you wouldn’t do this again. You promised.”_

_I promised you so much, darling._

_“Loki, we’re together now – you have to wake up.”_ Loki found that panic again. Something more along the lines of desperation. _“Please – you have to wake up.”_ He knew she was there. Here? Somewhere. _But how do I find you?_ He fumbled in the darkness, gravitating blindly toward her, the comforting aura she exuded. He might have imagined it, but it was all he had. Until she kissed him.

The entire world brightened. Had he been standing, or in a state of reality to accommodate it, he would have been brought to his knees when his whole mind numbed. But like a flare – a bright light in a dark room, he found her and in turn his own body, an empty shell heaped into her lap. He felt her legs beneath his back, her hands bracing his shoulders while she kissed him everywhere. Her lips pressed against his neck, his cheek, his lips again. _“Come on, Loki, wake up.”_ And for a moment he was floating, his vision an ache like the moment before you black out. But in this instance, as the weight returned with a vengeance, it was an array of blinding white he met instead.

“You promised you would protect me! You promised you’d be there for me! Loki, you promised! Now wake up you fucking liar!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, and just before his head met the stone, the waking world found him again.

Loki clung to her now, hands held with bruising force, putting as much distance between them and the throne room as possible. She was quiet. More than likely exhausted. But he couldn’t see past this simple contact he had almost lost. To even see her again was a miracle made real by her determination alone. She had put aside everything for him. _For me._ A feat he still failed to understand. He recalled their kiss. One of several desperate attempts to wake him. And in his hallucinatory bliss to even know it wasn’t the end, he returned every single one. And paying no mind whatever fear or discomfort remained.

Two months of torment had finally brought them here. So long this comfort and contact had invaded his dreams, another lacking reality. But it was real now. His grip loosened, but only enough to run his thumb across the burn on the back of her hand. His fingertips traced the unobscured flesh of her palm. He couldn’t meet her gaze, though he felt it. No matter how much he wanted to smile, to laugh, to hold her and wonder how it was possible, this cruel reality was always there gnawing at the back of his mind. For now, she was his. But only for one more night.

 

Loki led her through the winding halls, down a seemingly unending path. But Naomi’s mind had reached a place where it was only dragged along without complaint. Her thoughts lingered elsewhere, until they finally stopped. Naomi looked up at the door Loki had brought them too. In finally observing her surroundings, this pair of double doors was no different than the others around the hall, but she could see in his expression that there was more to it than its intricate knot work engravings. She hadn’t been sure what to expect. She had only ever seen him confined within a stark white cell adorned with very misplaced furniture. But when he finally pushed aside his musings and opened the doors, they were greeted with a state of disrepair reminiscent of the grimy dungeon they’d only just escaped.

This was only a foyer; an entryway modestly furnished that led to a much larger suite. But the whole of it was left dark by sconces long unlit. Even in the dim light, she could see every surface had accumulated a thick film of dust, several years’ worth of neglect and abandonment. It was sad to think that in his absence no one had maintained it. Instead it was left to nature’s devices. But Loki’s hand took on a green light as it swept over the space. Moving like a wave or a flame on a gunpowder trail, the dust evaporated, clotting in embers lifted away by the vibrant green smoke, the desaturation undone. Naomi followed it, watched as the room came to life again. Through the small entryway, it opened up into a sitting area cocooned with shelves well stocked with books. She scanned the titles all in his runic language, while their pages were freed from the cling of unfiltered air.

His spell spread, restoring his chambers to what they had been, a symbol of a status he no longer held. Beautifully polished wood surfaces. Ornate décor lost in the dim light. Dark green drapery lined the entire back wall, bathing the entire space in darkness that was illuminated only where the afternoon sun snuck through. But as the green smoke escaped into the farthest contours, the light was last; the sconces finally dotted with flame until she saw an interior fitting of the person she’d thought him to be. Her eyes traveled the space. Following from where they entered, she could see where it tapered into a bathroom and further along she found more shelves and books – a study – a place to get lost.

Her feet brushed through a large area rug, an animal pelt that carpeted this main sitting space. It was dotted with large armchairs, some still with books left upon their cushions as though he’d been called away very suddenly. And never returned to see them back to their shelves. Her eyes scanned a desk, a heavy wood furnishing with a scattering of unorganized notes upon it. It was almost painful as she pieced together _this_ man. A scholar, someone brilliant but quiet. Someone who could coop themselves up in here with only books for company until perhaps a mother had been forced to retrieve him. Someone who did well when left to his own devices, but not anymore. Comparing such observations to the shattered soul she’d met down there brought a sad swell to her chest.

Her gaze lifted, panning across the rest of the room. Her eyes followed the deep emerald curtains, spying a balcony through a tiny crack. At the far end of the room was an ornate wooden four-post bed surrounded by a paper-thin, gossamer curtain in a similar hue of green. She stared at it for the longest time, taking in the unmade sheets and the heavy evergreen duvet without much thought. Only half imagined scenes replaying in her mind – dreams never realized – ruminations that bore panic in the past. Loki suddenly appeared at her side, startling her toward safer thoughts. His hand, his feather light touch, slipped into hers, the pad of his thumb brushing the burn that branded the back of her hand.

“May I heal you?” She could hear the fatigue in his voice, but with a comforting determination she remembered all too well. She nodded and he led her to the upholstered bench at the foot of his bed. Loki settled to the floor between her feet when she sat down, but before she could question, he took her bare foot into his hand, his fingers sliding methodically across her toes. _He remembered._ It was so long ago. It was the first of so many injuries sustained down there, a silly outburst that brought a gimp to her step, one she’d done so well to hide from him. But he remembered. The pain was long gone, but she felt a tingly sensation invade her skin, surrounding the bones of her tiniest toe, correcting where it had healed slightly crooked.

When he was done, he set her foot down before his slightly shaking hands traveled up her legs and across her bare thighs, tracing bruises long gone. She felt his magic invade her muscles in passing, repairing the slightest atrophy from her time spent unconscious and starved. She shivered when his hands came to her waist, moving slowly up her sides, his fingertips tracing her ribs a pair at a time.

She remembered another man’s hands with a grip so tight it had broken at least two. Loki healed three, the small fractures finally sealing and relieving a constriction on her chest she’d since adjusted to. It had been only a tiny throb amongst a mess of horrors. Forgotten like the others – wounds endured and ignored for so long. But to move, to even breathe, unimpaired after so long – it was a relief she hadn’t known she needed.

His hand took hers and he moved to sit beside her. The burn she’d sustained still stung, having already been ripped open twice since receiving it. But she watched as the red faded, the cracked flesh smoothed until the whole of it was enveloped and replaced, old freckles still intact. She flexed her fingers painlessly while his touch moved up her arm, pausing at her elbow where it had been sprained in the infamous attack. The muscles mended until the minute restriction disappeared.

Then his fingers trailed over her shoulder and slowly up her neck where his hand finally reached her cheek. His eyes, brooding with anguish, followed as his thumb found the bump in the bone where it had fractured. It had been a big black eye for a while, then only a bulge and an ache – a slight break in the skin. All had healed, but she’d noted after waking up after a week asleep that her cheek had lost feeling as a result. Nevertheless, she felt the slightest pressure when he set the bone correctly, smoothing the small lump and finally repairing the nerve. And she felt the cool press of his fingers again. She heard him sigh, his grip shifting so he could tuck his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck.

“I wish I could heal what’s been done to your mind – your memories,” he breathed, his lips barely brushing her cheek. Her thoughts struggled to find some way to silence his regret, the fault he wouldn’t let go of, but before she could respond he was helping her to her feet again. “Come with me.”

She followed him into the bathroom around the corner, a slightly smaller space with floors of more polished stone. The light in here was low even with the flickering glow of candles on the walls. She settled against a countertop while Loki disappeared into one of the deeper shadows, but after a moment a few more candles lit, illuminating a bathtub set in the stone of the floor. In size it was more akin to a large hot tub or a small pool. She watched when the water suddenly ran, pouring from a faucet cut from the stone of the wall beside the tub. It fell like a waterfall, pumped from somewhere by means she couldn’t quite figure out. But as the warmth and steam quickly permeated the room, it was one of the last things on her mind.

Loki added mildly fragrant salt-like stuff until the water was clouded. And as the tub finally filled, the water stopped and the room was bathed in a stirring silence. She watched him move uncertainly, avoiding eye contact like he hadn’t done since they were locked in a torturous standstill between separate cells. She moved cautiously forward, her gaze drifting between Loki and the warm bath he had run. She dipped a foot into the water, the perfect temperature sending shivers up her spine. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

She hurriedly snagged Loki’s hand before he could slip away. “Stay. Please?” He didn’t fight her. Not even slightly. He turned back with a defeated sigh before he twined his fingers further with hers. She could see in his tired eyes how much that simple touch still affected him. She brought him back to the edge of the bath and he sat down without argument. He watched her with a barely focused gaze when she began to undress, slipping his torn shirt over her head. She shed her dingy, tattered shorts and soon after her underwear. She tugged the tie out of her hair, which was by now so matted and tangled from so much abuse it didn’t seem worth the efforts of repair.

Looking herself over, she and Loki almost shared a skin tone now. Several months without sunlight and she was sickly pale, although the warm light afforded her the slightest bronze. In healing her, Loki had put a little weight back on her – enough that she felt a tad more than skin and bones. She felt his gaze, softer than she remembered it. His eyes traveled over her but not as they had before. The hunger in his stare was gone, though the obvious longing remained. She saw almost adoration or appreciation. But it might have been grief. Grief that this time tomorrow all of this would be over. After tonight, nothing would be the same. The very thought made her feel sick. But she hurriedly silenced that thought and stepped into the water.

She breathed a long sigh of relief, settling onto the seat that lined the bath. There were hundreds of stupid things she’d missed since being imprisoned here. On her list of things to do when she finally got home, a hot bath was right up there with eat a whole pizza and sleep for a week. For a moment she simply laid there, slumped in the seat so her shoulders sunk under the water, her head resting on the tiny step just barely submerged. She imagined just sinking under the water, surrounded by its warm embrace. It almost made drowning seem pleasant, but when she remembered the grime and the grit and the useless dungeon shower, she sat up again and found the soap.

In a tiny box beside the bath she found all sorts of stuff she couldn’t identify but it all smelled good. Certain scents she recognized from where they lingered on Loki’s clothes or in his hair. Whatever the case, she sought to surround herself with it. Lathering up a washrag with what she knew to be soap, she scrubbed. Starting with her feet that had grown filthy and callused without shoes for so long. After that she proceeded to scrub herself down until her skin was raw but at last clean.

And now for the hair. She had attempted to untangle it several times over the course of her captivity, each time with minimal results. Eventually she gave up, concocting the rather aggressive plan to simply shave it all off when she got home. Simply running her fingers through it now, they stuck and already she wanted to have at it with the scissors. Up until then, she had almost forgotten Loki was there, until his hands met hers where they stuck against her scalp. He worked her fingers free before he began untangling it himself.

She sat up when he moved in behind her, his now bootless feet sitting in the water on either side of her. He worked some sort of conditioner into her hair and combed it out one section at a time. Before long she felt the knots loosen until he found her long lost curls again. She sighed softly as he dragged his fingers against her scalp. The tender pull of his long fingers through her hair had her drifting, her mind melting into the water, until her world was once more reduced to his touch.

“Thank you,” Loki said, “for the things you said.”

“You heard all of that?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Every word. What you did for me – I didn’t deserve it.”

She grabbed his hand, until he stilled. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.” She turned and met his gaze, her wet hands bracing his thighs. “Is saving my life worth so little? Whether you think yourself deserving or not, I will never regret returning that favor.” Her thumb rubbed at a tiny patch of dried blood on his cheek that had been missed in his mother’s impromptu cleanup. And when the red finally faded, he leaned into her touch, kissing her hand when he could reach it. But after that he was quiet. Lost in his thoughts. Lost in tomorrow. But this wasn’t the end. _I won’t let it end like this._

After a time, Loki helped her out, quickly wrapping a towel around her while the tub drained. He brought her back into his bedroom and began rummaging through his drawers while she dried herself off. He returned with another towel and she hung her head forward as he gently wrung out her hair until a small puddle had accumulated on the rug beneath her feet. And in her periphery she watched him, as he sunk further into that depressing funk she had thought gone forever. The pain filled persona she hardly missed.

“Loki?” He set the other towel aside and began absently arranging her wet hair around her face, still without meeting her gaze. “Loki.” She snagged his hands, drawing him closer until she finally met his deep green eyes. For the longest time she searched for words – something to say. Something that might relieve the obvious ache in his heart. Or in his mind. “How do you feel about me?” she asked, her voice quietly demanding.

His thumbs drew aimless figure eights across her knuckles before he finally spoke. “It’s not something I’ve been able to put into words thus far,” he said, his voice painfully distant. “But it’s as close to love as I may ever get.” And suddenly it was no longer a question of doubt – of fear or panic. To hear that word – that one word – made her stomach flop uncomfortably – _to even come close_. But she no longer ignored the warmth born beneath her skin. She braced him by the shoulders, commanding his slipping attention before she completely lost him. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his jaw. Loki seemed almost startled when she was suddenly pressed against him, all hesitance gone, his grip around her back the only thing holding her towel up.

“Naomi-” She could feel her heart already pounding in her chest, but for the first time since this horror story began she urged it to run even faster. She leaned up, brushing her lips to his. “Naomi, please-” Her grip tightened on his shoulder and now the back of his neck while she parted his lips, kissing him softly until she felt him relax – felt his guard drop – felt him slowly relinquish his restraint. “After everything I’ve put you through,” he began quietly. “Everything you’ve suffered at my expense-”

“After everything that’s happened – we deserve tonight. For us.”

Loki stilled, his green eyes opening again. And she watched as the doubt, which he clung to so fiercely, finally faded away. “For us?” His voice, the tone she’d become so irrevocably attached to, shook against her skin. She kissed him again, pulling from him a long relief filled sigh. _We need this._

“For us _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we all know where this is going… <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done! It's only been like a freaking month… I am so horribly awful and I apologize profusely for the wait! I was having mad problems… but it's finally done! PLEASE NOTE that I have altered the very end of the previous chapter. It was mainly some dialogue I decided I hated and more than likely it will make no difference to anyone but me, but it is what it is.
> 
> So here it is, finally something not so horrible… something hopeful… some relief from all dem awful feels… before I bludgeon you with more feels...
> 
> And I suppose I should warn you, this chapter is mostly sex. In case you weren't already aware… ;) Enjoy ma lovelies...

For so long he had imagined this – her touch in a true and unadulterated form. Without fear. Without panic. Without a pane of glass between them. In all that time, it had been enough to cocoon her in his illusions, to find her embrace only for a moment before his end, to know her kiss only through a void of non-existence. It was enough. Until her arms looped around his neck. Until her touch set his every nerve on fire. Until he felt the subtle press, soft but insistent, of her lips to his.

Nothing could have prepared him for it. And nothing would ever compare.

He wanted this – with all of his heart. To have her. To keep her. To _love_ her. But in so short a time he’d seen her suffer and starve and nearly die because of him. He’d seen her injured and violated when he should have protected her. He had seen her cry for him; mourning and grief he didn’t deserve after he’d knowingly abandoned her. _I promised you so much, darling._ Promises he’d failed to keep. _Why would you have me, after all of this?_ “After everything I’ve put you through,” he began quietly. “Everything you’ve suffered at my expense-”

“After everything that’s happened – we deserve tonight. For us.”

His mind, in a second, compiled an enormity of implications. _Us?_ In ordinary context, only some mundane method of cohesion. But it established an entity. Lives bound together by something much stronger than words. _Us?_ Surely she hadn’t meant it that way. “For us?” Her kiss left him breathless once more, drawing a long sigh from his chest – barely conscious relief.

“For us.”

He stared at her, unblinking for longer that it should have been possible. She took him by the wrist, her lithe fingers gliding over flesh only recently healed as she drew him closer. Surely he was only dreaming? _Surely I will wake up and find that I’m still alone in a cell._ “Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly, searching her eyes for the panic that had forced his restraint for so long.

“Yes.” She pressed his hand into the crook of her neck, sighing, shivering where his cool palm met the warm skin of her throat. Still aided by her hold, his fingers followed the curve of her collarbone, trailing slowly across the part of her chest that her shirt had always exposed. But then he moved further, her grip still insistent and urging when his hand met the towel still clinging to her curves. His thumb traced the edge, the soft fibers folding under his fingertip, though he stilled when he came to the small tuck in the fabric, the point where it folded into itself and ultimately protected her naked form. Naomi’s hand was still clamped around his wrist, her knuckles whitening, her eyes pleading the longer she watched him. Waited for him.

_Surely I’m only dreaming._

His finger slid between the fabric and her skin, pulling just slightly until the towel finally unfurled and pooled on the floor around her feet. She shivered, her breath catching somewhere in her chest when the cool air met her bare skin. But she didn’t shy away. She pressed closer and her cheek met his in an almost-kiss to the root of his jaw. Loki felt her sigh, felt her relish that simple contact, while his mind was still too far drowned. It almost escaped his notice when her hands slipped under his shirt. “Can I see you?”

Her voice was barely there, whispered against his cheek, a query dotted with kisses across his temple. He parted with her only a moment to lift the tunic over his head, but her hands wasted little time in their return. He’d always been long and lean with a build neither Asgardian nor Jotun. But she admired him all the same. Her fingertips ghosted over the subtle tone. And she smiled in her not so subtle perusal.

Her hair, still slightly damp, tickled his stomach while her lips trailed across his chest, warming the skin everywhere she touched. She found tiny scars, little reminders he had long forgotten about, while she worked her way up again. She briefly lingered against his collarbone before nipping at his jaw. Then her hands suddenly dragged him to where she could capture his lips again. And she tugged desperately, entangling her tongue with his and pulling the very breath from his lungs. He was bracing her hips, feeling almost dizzy, lost in the way she clung to him.

In spite of her size and her slight frame, her weight had him stumbling when she pressed closer. When the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed, meeting the mattress with only a shadow of his usual grace, she straddled his lap. And all the while, they never parted, their lips still caught in a dire embrace. But the need for air abruptly took precedence. She leaned away only slightly, her grip moving to his shoulders, both breathing hotly into the space between them.

“Wow,” he sighed, his mind still reeling, spinning. Loki glanced up at her, admiring the flush in her cheeks, the way her chest heaved. Her tongue dabbed at her pink lips, savoring the taste and the slightest swell, before she opened her eyes. Their ordinary caramel brown color had darkened to near black and half-lidded they were stunning. But his gaze drifted, finally taking in her completely unclothed form. He had seen her before, but he was more than certain she barely recalled exposing herself as she had. She was beautiful now, healed and healthy. And his to admire.

“Touch me,” she said, her breath finally steadying.

Loki smiled, glancing up at her again. “That hasn’t gone so well for us in the past, darling,” he joked quietly. For a moment his mind drifted back. It hadn’t been real. For so long, it _couldn’t_ be real. And he had only imagined this: soft skin so forgiving beneath his loosening grip, goose bumps smoothing where his hands explored. Her back arched as one of his hands began tracing her spine, his fingers caressing every protruding notch. Massaging small circles, he reveled in the way she responded. Every touch forced a sharp inhale, breath repeatedly broken.

He leaned forward, lips brushing her neck and remembering all the times he had tried in the past. And he waited for it – for the fear that would steal her away. Her heart was pounding as it had before the panic overtook her, but she sighed with pleasure, her mind still with him. He felt the blood rush beneath his touch. It was a tiny throb at the crook of her neck that faded as he moved down to her shoulder and her collarbone. He peppered her chest with kisses, but he slowed moving lower. He just barely brushed his lips to the peak of her breast when he heard her gasp, heard her whine – a sound so completely sublime. And her reaction even more so, with her neck arched, her teeth digging into her bottom lip and her eyes pinched shut. So wonderfully affected by such subtle sensations.

Pulling her flush against him, Loki half turned and laid her among the sheets and furs. And lingering over her, he could do little more than admire at first. Her mildly paled skin in the low light. Her auburn hair against dark green sheets. And her curves, her hourglass figure, stilled his every wandering thought. Beautiful. She smiled, her gaze drifting elsewhere when a nervous flush warmed her cheeks. But he held her chin, held her eyes, and then he kissed her. Wordless reassurance. And a privilege he thought he’d never know.

Beginning with her neck, his hand traveled over her shoulder and down the arm he’d healed, before he twined their fingers together. Loki brought her hand to his lips, their stares meeting again as he kissed her knuckles. He caught her other wandering hand before joining them above her head and he was more than careful not to restrain her, seeing her eyes widen at the state of vulnerability he imposed. He arranged her hands carefully among the folds in the sheets and her mess of curly hair, noting with a second glance the way they fisted, clutching nervously at the fabric. “Naomi? You’re all right?” For a moment she was quiet, her eyes unfocused, her mind elsewhere. His hand had settled on her shoulder, a touch he questioned in that moment until she leaned into it, breath catching but then steadying again. “You’re all right, love?” Finally she nodded with her prior eagerness returned. And then he continued.

Watching him with eyes blown wide, his fingertips learned every inch of her. His hands worked over her every contour, following the curve of her breast, down the slope of her belly and around her hips in a mind numbing once over. And then he began again at her chest. It was a soft plane of unmarred flesh, more beautiful now than he had ever imagined it through his doppelganger’s eyes. His lips were gentle at first, before he marked her – just once to know that he could – to know she was his. So that she might know.

She tensed when he made his way over the curve of her breast. And this time his mouth covered the sensitive peak, his tongue flitting against it until he heard her gasp, felt her writhe, knew her hands knotted in her hair to keep from forcing him away. Or forcing him further. She was panting quietly when he finally moved lower, pecking the underside of her breast before the cool tip of his nose went to nuzzling her belly. His hands, on either side, traced her ribs. The healed breaks made themselves known to his touch, but in reaching a tender spot low on her side she squirmed to escape him with a sound he’d never known of her before. When she stopped, he brought his thumb over it again and she nearly snorted in a vain attempt to hide an adorable giggle. “Ticklish, darling?”

Naomi seemed pathetically worried by such a simple observation. Not that her worry was misplaced. Dropping his weight against her legs, he attacked, his fingers drumming across her side while she helplessly convulsed underneath him, rendered breathless with hysterical laughter. When he finally stopped, her eyes watered, diluting the menace in her stare. But regardless of the revenge she’d be more than likely plotting, he savored the ache in his cheeks, from a smile he hadn’t worn in a long, long time.

Shifting onto his knees from where he’d been sitting between her legs, his hands resumed their course, following the pronounced bone of her hip, up her thigh to where her knee was bent. He lightly kissed the roughened skin and his hand ran the final length of her leg before he paused to run a finger over her toes. Head to toe, the whole of her, _his_.

His lips barely brushed hers, teasing her when he leaned over her again. Her back arched in an attempt to bring him closer, before she tensed, lips parted in waiting as his fingers traced tiny circles on her inner thigh. “You’re all right, love?” She shook, every muscle pulled taught, awaiting that inevitable touch. “Tell me you want this.” She gravitated toward his touch, but his caution was seeded so deep that it wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t harm her again. _Never again._ “I need to hear it.” He kissed her cheek while his more intimate caress slowly disappeared.

“ _Loki._ ” He kissed her and she breathed a tiny whine while his touch raked over and over the crest of her hip – close. But not close enough. “Loki, I want this,” she rushed, kissing him anywhere she could reach. “I’m okay, I promise.” Her next iteration was broken when his touch returned, and her breath turned harsh against his lips, her forehead scrunching tighter as he relieved the unsettling ache. His other hand was splayed into her hair, tangling among the tendrils as hers did. _Surely this is only a dream._

But she was here. With white knuckles, she tugged at the sheet above her head while her hips twisted, her whole body beckoning him closer. His fingers were swirling runic symbols, gradually losing rhythm every time she whispered his name, a sigh of pleasure in the wake of his every touch. _Surely._ Surely he’d find himself alone the moment his mind caught up. “Loki – _please._ ”

She sighed, in either relief or disappointment, when his touch disappeared. But Loki gently nipped her jaw before he laid himself between her legs, adjusting her thighs over his shoulders. Her eyes were wide, more than likely mirroring his own. Nerves rattled him up and down, not visibly, but he felt his hands shake. His gaze lifted when her hand reached for his. A soft touch. Delicate fingers. Reassurance. _Trust._ She smiled and he saw the same weary anticipation heavy upon her too. “Please,” she exhaled quietly.

He began with a kiss, something soft, something tender. Before he found what she needed and acquiesced to a wordless request. His silver tongue had her jerking and twisting until he braced her hips to the bed, an arm slung across her waist. Words half uttered passed her lips as her grip tightened and she tugged on his hair, but her taste, like a poison, left him numb. He could feel a pressure building, her muscles twitching, and her pulse pounding where he held her hand. She barely breathed, the sounds harsh when she did. So close. Her heels dug into his back. Her back arched from the bed. _Almost._ “Stop! Stop! _Stop!_ ”

Loki freed her, his head jerking up instantly. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” He sat up, her legs sliding off of his shoulders when he crawled over her again. Her face was flushed a furious red and she was barely supported by her shaking elbows. “Did I hurt you?” he asked again.

Naomi shook her head, before she looped her arms around his neck to sit herself up. “But I don’t want it to end like this. Not like this,” she said. Her eyes traveled over him, settling lower, and then her fingers met the edge of his trousers. He leaned into her touch, her name falling softly from his lips. She fought with the ties before his sei∂r swept the last of his clothes away. The last of so many obstacles removed. His hands shook when he lowered her to the mattress again. _This can’t possibly be real. Surely I’m dreaming. Surely._ He angled his hips, subtly adjusting until he was poised at her center.

His mind whirled without his consent. His head fell to her shoulder, taking long drags of her subtle fragrance while his heart raced in his chest. He took a long calming breath, but it shook. He was completely and utterly terrified. But more than certain in the end they sought. _After all you’ve done for me. I owe you everything – anything I can give you._ _Naomi._ Her hands cradled his face, bringing his eyes to meet hers. “This is real?”

“ _Yes._ ” She dragged him closer, lips softly melding with his and breathing a litany of reassurance against him. “ _Yes. Yes. Yes._ ”

Loki took her hands, fighting to keep his grip loose. And he brought them just above her shoulders, steadying himself before he pushed forward. Their breath hitched between them, open mouths lingering just shy of contact. His eyes were shut so tight as he pressed in one painstaking inch at a time, his every thought screaming of restraint, savoring every second surrounded by her. And he didn’t breathe until their hips met. _This is real. This is real._ Dreams made real. Horrors undone. And he reveled in it – this feeling of completeness. To be made whole. To know her inside and out. To be utterly one with her after all this time. His. _Mine._

His hips slowly rocked, Naomi responding in turn. And he gave himself to her completely, reveling in the slick pressure, the warm friction that meant she was his. He moaned into her neck at the grip of her body, the taut muscles stretching around him as he quickened his gait. “Loki – Loki please.” His name broke on her lips, words interspersed with small sounds – moans and whimpers that tugged at his heart. Her body bowed flush against his, her every curve conforming to his bare chest. Her inner muscles clenched, tightening rhythmically.

“ _Naomi._ ” Her name fell from his lips over and over – a plea, a prayer. Loki was determined to see her through, possessed with an insatiable need to love her with everything he had, even at the expense of his will and sanity. “ _Please, darling_.” Muscles tightly coiled finally snapped and the air was rushing in and out of her lungs as she peaked. They shared a shattered cry as Loki finally let his control slip. He dropped to his elbows, eyes misting over, both of them lost in the onslaught of sensation when his hips made one last push that buried him so impossibly deep.

When he finally found the strength to open his eyes again, she was smiling, blissfully content, her face pleasantly flushed. _My beautiful mortal. My beautiful Naomi._ His to have and to keep – to love – no matter what. _No matter what._

Naomi reached up with shaking hands, wiping the wetness from his cheeks – tears that had managed escape. “You’re not supposed to cry,” she said, her voice shredded with emotion, her own eyes wet.

Loki crowded her into the mattress, pressing closer to kiss her again, tugging slowly and lingering on even the tiniest caress. He collapsed beside her, keeping her close, maintaining their embrace. _Mine._ _Mine to love. Mine to protect._ Always. She curled into him, slowly drifting off and beckoning him to follow. And sleep came with ease this time. She was safe. And finally, as near to him as she could ever be.

 

When the night began, Loki assumed it would be short, but he found himself awake again only a few hours into the night. And he thanked the norns that it wasn’t a dream. Naomi was there. Still there. She slept, now half covered with sheets, for the heavier furs had drifted to the foot of the bed. The paper-thin curtain surrounding the bed, previously parted and pulled to the posts, blurred the room around them, quieting the space to a beautiful silence. The only sound was Naomi, breathing softly beside him. But he still found himself wondering if this could possibly be real.

He touched her, barely his fingertips against the warm skin of her back, and it was true and treasured contact. Real as it would ever be. He connected the freckles dotting her shoulders, still learning, finding things he hadn’t seen before. His finger followed the dip in her spine, where softly lit skin gave way to shadow. She shifted, only slightly, when his arm came over her side, brushing that ticklish spot. His hand mapped the new curves, felt the steady rise and fall of her chest and the way with which it’s hypnotic rhythm forced his pulse to slow. Even in sleep, she called to him.

For centuries he’d existed in a fog – a confused existence – a place where he’d lived without purpose, but after all that time, she had emerged from the haze. Like something long forgotten was suddenly made clear to him. A feeling he’d ignored. An emotion he’d denied. _Sentiment._

Once merely a fool’s indulgence and now something he could never live without. _Not without her. Not after everything that’s happened._

More than a year ago, when he was tossed into a dungeon, he was content in his madness to spend the rest of his life caged and alone. It was easier. Simpler. But he could no longer imagine a day without her. He remembered what he had done. He remembered all that had led him here. He remembered injustice and torment – an unsettling need for revenge. But he remembered Naomi. And everything else fell silent. She was the answer, a balm to his every ache. And in spite of the judgments he had passed on himself, she weaseled her way into his heart. And he would do anything to keep her there. Forever.

_No matter what it takes, no matter what I have to do, we will stay together._

And not even the almighty Allfather would keep them apart.

She stirred, adjusting under the covers before she turned onto her back, once more surrounding herself with his embrace. Her eyes blinked sleepily in the dark, her mind still lingering between awake and asleep. But she reached for him, her hand meeting his cheek, pulling him closer for a kiss. The knuckles of her other hand moved leisurely up and down his chest and for a moment he thought she had fallen asleep again, her lips momentarily stilling against his. But she half turned again, her leg wrapping around his slender waist, their hips meeting beneath the sheets. And she nestled closer, her brown eyes glistening up at him, consciousness clear in them now. “I love you, Loki.”

In spite of his inherent cold, the whole of him warmed, something leeching out from his very core. Something he, in all of his long-lived years, could never explain. It was a connection, something intangible, something unseen. Stronger than sei∂r and solely theirs. Something he would fight to define for the rest of his life. But at its very heart, in its simplest form, it would hold them together to the very ends of his realm and hers.

“I love you, Naomi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Dis chapter gave me happy feels… I hope you all enjoyed it. After this there will be one more full length chapter and I think an epilogue as well. And hopefully there will be no more acts of god preventing me from completing the rest of this in a timely fashion. Thanks so much for reading! And thank you so much for your patience! XOXOXO


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to believe this is almost over… it's a relief and a loss at the same time... it's just a very weird feeling.
> 
> So in honor of my birthday and Tom's, here you have the last two chapters… Enjoy ma lovelies!

She lost count of how many times she woke up that night, but every time it was the same, the cool comfort of a body beside her – of Loki. And he was always watching over her with a look in his eyes like at any moment she might disappear. Honestly, she had more than once worried the same thing of him. But when she shifted beneath the sheets, she felt the reassurance of an arm curled around her and the more she woke, the more aware she became of how he’d completely surrounded her. He was breathing softly against the back of her neck, while the rest of him was curled protectively around her. And this time he slept.

Through tired eyes, she retained a vivid memory of all that had transpired that night. Every moment seared into her mind, her body still wrought with sensation hours past. And to even think back was pleasantly chilling. From the first time she spoke with him, when he teased of his lecherous intent, she never could have imagined this. His hands shook, gentle in their guidance, the whole of him somehow as nervous as she was. He handled her as though she were glass, afraid he might break her – or afraid she might panic. She had forcefully neglected the very idea, buried it as deep as she could, hoping desperately to be free of it entirely.

But it was still there, always an unhealed wound waiting to be torn open again, a fragile seal to be broken at her inconvenience. When the night began it was the thorn in her side that it had been in the weeks preceding – not that it mattered then – when it couldn’t be real. And it was a dull throb, threatening her at every turn, burning in her chest and slowly seeping elsewhere. But it flared, her mind steeling and forcing horrid associations when she found herself inevitably vulnerable, left to someone else’s mercies. But his grip was never insistent – never restraining. In that moment, his touch was almost timid and when he spoke there was fear, not force.

She leaned into his touch, dragging herself from her own obtrusive thoughts. Not an attacker – not a guard – _Loki_. All comfort and worry. And more concerned for her safety than his own damn life. _Idiot._ The heat faded, smothered in the wake of his cool skin against hers. And this time, reduced to less than a pinprick until she forgot, until it slipped her mind and vanished entirely. Lost among waves of pleasure, buried beneath overwhelming sensation. Not a memory. Not a dream. Something real. And the night went on.

More than once she was drawn from sleep by forces unknown, awakening to a pair of glimmering green eyes, shining like a cat’s without the predatory edge. And for once without an air of misfortune. This time it was adoration, hope, _love._ Her heart swelled every time that tiny thought occurred to her. She would hear his soft-spoken admission over and over again until she couldn’t help but smile. _I love you, Naomi._ She could almost feel the way those few words weighed on him like an oath he had to carry. But still they melted the ice from his heart. And soon the whole of him had opened up to her. He was hers. And she was irrevocably his.

Through the night, his touch was a constant reminder. She could feel where he’d marked her, a tender bruise on her chest, but she loved it as much as his softer caresses. It spoke as much of the love they shared as the dull ache in her muscles from being taken more than once that night. She sat up, sliding out of his grasp and finding that this time he stayed asleep. His form subtly adjusted but after that he was still, his countenance perfectly peaceful. And beautiful.

Sunlight slipped through the cracks in the heavy green drapery, casting shifting patterns of light onto the area rug as they rippled slowly with the wind. Curiosity freed her from the sheets and had her wrapping one of the many discarded fur blankets around herself as she stepped silently toward the curtains. With a single hand parting the heavy green fabric, she turned back to ensure Loki wasn’t disturbed, but he was still a slumbering lump beneath the sheets with a mess of black hair escaping at the pillows.

She was blinded by the morning sunshine when she slipped through the curtain. When she finally managed to squint, she found the balcony she’d expected, but the view was beyond anything she could have imagined. She had only glimpsed this world upon her arrival but in her state of shock, she took nothing from it with the exception of the rainbow bridge and the dungeons. But this realm was something straight out of science fiction. Buildings towered into the distance, fading into the ocean that shortly cascaded into a breathtaking starscape only slightly marred by daylight. There were planets visible to the naked eye, lost among the clouds and a subtle aurora – a reflection of the multicolored crystalline bridge that ran the length of the vast city. It was hard to believe all that had gone on beneath it. Lost in its awe, even she, for a moment could have been made to forget. But only a moment before her mind returned to the here and now. And the dreaded eventuality of the morning.

“Are you all right, love?”

Loki’s sleepy voice startled her from her thoughts and she spun around, instinctually clinging to the fur wrapped around her shoulders. She was surprised to see genuine worry in his eyes as he stepped onto the balcony clothed in leather trousers only half tied – in his haste to locate her, no doubt. “I’m okay.” He pressed forward, wrapping his arms around her bare waist beneath the blanket. He nestled into the crook of her neck, his uneasiness quickly fading.

“I woke up and you weren’t there. I was worried-”

“That it was only a dream?” He looked up with a sad smile, before he nodded in whole-hearted agreement. His eyes slowly softened finding everything as it was. As it should be. Naomi smiled. “Would it make you feel better if I pinched you?”

“It might,” he laughed, before catching her breath when he pushed the fur from her shoulders to hang on the railing behind her. The length of him recovered what he’d exposed, smothering a shiver as he leaned her against the stone barrier, kissing her softly. But she grinned, nipping his lip before she pinched his bare stomach. He laughed, a sound gruff and sleepy. Then he grabbed her hand, knowing full well by then he was awake. And she was real. “I’ve made something for you.”

“When did you find the time to do that?”

He cocked his head towards the suite, leading her back in by the hand he withheld. The curtains parted, light flooding the room with sunlight, casting new shadows, but illuminating so much she hadn’t noticed before. His chambers stretched much further than she thought, as curtains in other rooms were drawn open, revealing an enormous length of space. He brought her through an entryway, past the bathroom and into a vast study. Books rose up on shelf after shelf into the heights of the domed ceiling. There were more seating areas up in recessed loft spaces. The perfect hideaway if ever there was one. Picturing herself curled up in his lap while he read to her from the many tomes was enough to give her goose bumps. If the whole of this stupid realm were reduced to his space, she would happily live here forever.

He drew her from her thoughts, leading her down a tighter hall that opened into what she very simply defined as a closet. Though it was more of a dressing room. Large wooden cabinets lined the room like a horseshoe and from the few left halfway open she saw mostly leathers – blacks and greens – the obvious pattern to his wardrobe. In the center of the room, there was a large floor length mirror with a stool at its feet. She couldn’t help but imagine some sort of tailor cowering at Loki’s feet attempting to hem one of his elaborate costumes.

Loki cleared his throat, having vanished into her periphery a moment before, and she turned to find him holding a dress. It was his favored shade of green in the form of a silken fabric that, as she watched, was sewn by the glow of his magic. The simple form of a halter style dress was adorned with golden accents as the final hem, about knee-length, was stitched. Through the V of the neckline, she could see the two lengths of a sash meant to wrap around the waist. A stunning creation. His colors were easily growing on her. “It’s beautiful. I never took you for a seamstress,” she quipped, running her hands over the fabric.

“I mean no offense to your casual attire, but I’ve imagined you in a more suitable garment for a long time.” Naomi smiled, more than relieved to escape the rags she’d arrived in. “May I?” he asked. She turned, raising her arms above her head as he slipped it on. She pulled her hair aside while he hooked the clasp behind her neck. And she admired it in the mirror as he twined the sash around her midsection, tying it off at her hip. Once he’d finished, he fixed her hair around her shoulders, appreciating the reflection as she did. “ _Beautiful_.”

After a while, she sat down on the bench that completed the dressing area. And she watched while Loki got dressed. She guessed it was something he’d more than likely accomplished with magic in the past, or at the very least with assistance, but for the sake of buying time he did so by hand one layer at a time. While imprisoned, his garments hadn’t seemed too complex, compared with what some of his projections had worn. She mainly recalled the one that had come to her rescue – before he died – whose leathers were leaden with armor of tarnished gold. The weight of it showed now as the ensemble was pieced together.

She twiddled her fingers in her new dress as the threat of departure clawed at her attention. And Loki was nearly ready, tugging on his trench coat and buckling the shoulder guard before finally securing the bracers to his forearms. He sighed and she felt her heart sink further into her stomach, but when he looked up he smiled, showing no sign of the morose demeanor he’d shown the night before. The one she couldn’t help but feel now. _But it’s not goodbye,_ she reminded herself. _It’s not goodbye._ He sat down on the bench beside her, stilling her fiddling hands, the whole of him assuring her that everything would be all right. _And it would be all right._

“Are you ready to go home?”

After a while, she nodded. But there was a part of her, borne in a dark dungeon with a man she’d learned to love, that would probably never be ready.

 

It was miles from one end of the bifrost to the other, but hand in hand, Naomi still without shoes, they took the length of the rainbow bridge in stride. Once smoothly paved stone turned to iridescent crystal, she could feel its energy thrumming beneath her feet, the bright colors firing towards the observatory that marked the very edge of this world. And it loomed closer with every step. Naomi watched when the palace edge gave way to a city bustling below their feet. Loki remarked upon the scenery as they walked but it seemed as much a failed distraction for him as it was for her.

For a time, dense architecture, buildings of every sort, surrounded them. But gradually they faded into rocks and shoals and the sound of waves lapping at the shore. And in that moment when she was calmed by the soft and rhythmic sounds and lulled with the scent of the ocean breeze, she was content to still have Loki at her side, speaking idly of the world they were leaving behind. But after they reached the limits of the city and the large golden gates parted to see them out like exiles, her heart settled into her stomach shortly drowned in worry for the moment they would go their separate ways. _But it isn’t goodbye._ This was only the beginning, the start of something even harder than goodbyes.

Loki had fallen silent for a while once the beach disappeared, replaced by the ocean and an unexpected stillness – an eerie calm before an unyielding storm. The long awaited and dreaded return. The prospect of going home again had never seemed so foreign. “Things will never be the same after this,” she said. She’d come a long way, from a dark place, on another planet – her lover a god – an alien – _whatever_. “What will I tell them?”

“Whatever you think they’ll believe,” he replied. “After my attack, the general population has been made aware they are not alone in this universe. But they won’t believe Thor took any part in your abduction – their precious Avenger. Nor will they accept that I had any part in your rescue. But it doesn’t matter. You’re mine. And come what may, I will protect you.”

He more tightly twined their fingers as they finally came to the end of the road – the end of a two-month ordeal. It was called an observatory, an enormous dome not unlike a telescope, but without the magnification – and it bore an interior design like clockwork. Through the opening at the other side, past the man standing guard at its center, the universe was there for the naked eye to see. And not even on earth’s darkest nights did the stars shine so bright. When they reached the edge, she peered over. They were surrounded by space. The darkness, partly illuminated by brightly colored nebulas and stars exploding in the distance, stretched on forever, to an end that didn’t exist.

“I feel I must apologize, Miss Naomi,” the gatekeeper said in a remarkably smooth and basal tone, “for the part I played in your abduction.” Naomi was obviously skeptical, but something in his voice reassured her of a genuine sincerity. She replied with a nod over her shoulder, her gaze catching on his stunning golden eyes. “Know that by my own contrition, I shall do what I am able to ensure you come to no further harm.”

Loki turned to him with that possessive tension in his shoulders that she’d come to recognize, but when he spoke his voice was soft. “Thank you, Heimdall.”

“Your family still searches for you,” he said, his gaze turning once more on Naomi. “And they have done so nobly these many weeks. Even now, they are waiting for you.” She had a hard time believing that, but it brought as much of a nervous flop to her stomach as the prospect of teleporting back there.

She curled tighter into Loki’s grip as the gatekeeper set his sword in place and the walls around them began to spin, the entire room humming with a quickly compounding energy. “I shall remind you, Loki, that the Allfather has not yet granted your leave to remain on Midgard.”

“I know.” His arms surrounded her, forcing that warning of a lone return aside. “Are you ready?” She nodded, tucking her head beneath his chin before they were sucked into the multicolored vortex that would somehow lead her home.

The entire universe rushed past them in a matter of seconds, the whole of it a blur of bright color that blinded her until her eyes watered. Shutting her eyes, she was almost calm, with Loki holding her close. And in mere moments, she found her feet on solid ground again and fortunately without the nausea that accompanied her first ride through the swirling tunnel of rainbow.

“Much better this time,” she decided, unclamping her hands from his shoulders.

“Well had I known Thor accompanied your first trip, I would have shown far more sympathy for your sufferings; it was obviously awful.” A tiny laugh escaped her before she caught sight of her house. They’d been dropped in the middle of the street. It had been repaved here. Probably to cover the burn that the bifrost imprinted in the asphalt. Her feet could trace the tribal knots newly marring the fresh pavement. This had been the very spot, where a remarkable turn of fate changed her life forever – only a few long strides from her own front door.

All was as she’d left it. Someone had maintained her plants. The tiny front lawn was mowed and the mailbox had been emptied of bills no doubt piling up in her absence. “That’s my parents’ car,” she noted, pointing to the maroon colored SUV parked in the driveway. “And that’s – that’s my sister’s car. She flew all the way here-” Her voice cracked, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes to even imagine. _Not alone._ “They waited for me. All this time.”

“Of course they did. It’s a homecoming worth waiting for.”

The front door opened, a single head – her younger sister’s – poking out in the wake of what probably felt like an earthquake. And she’d no sooner run back inside screaming, calling for her parents. “I can’t stay,” Loki said quietly. She turned, clutching him in the hopes it might delay his return even a moment longer. _It’s too soon._ “Your family will take good care of you while I’m gone. You know I can’t stay away. I shall return. I’ll come back and we’ll be together. I promise.” She dragged him closer, smothering another stupid promise and kissing him until he smiled – until he laughed, foolishly amused with her desperation. “This isn’t goodbye,” he assured her. “This is be safe. And stay out of trouble. _My stubborn, little mortal_.”

He stole a smile, as reluctant as she was to give it while a sob briefly overwhelmed her. He pulled his fingers through her hair, calming her with his simplest touch. “I’m going to miss you so much. But not for long.”

She could hear the door swing open, the hinges squealing in protest. There was shouting, noises of a happy panic, and then quickening footfalls as her family converged for an ambush. _But I can’t go home yet._ She wrapped her arms around his neck, stealing one final embrace, kissing his cheek in a temporary farewell. “ _Thank you, Loki._ ”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He stepped out of her grasp, squeezing her hand before she lost his hold, suddenly surrounded. And then everything fell silent, the world washed out with an onslaught of forgotten emotion. So many arms embraced her, until she was crushed beneath the weight of it. She cried, felt her chest heave, as a thousand words of praise and longing met her through the fog. They’d missed her. _They missed me._ They’d come far and wide for her. They’d come together – for her. _For me._

It felt like an eternity before she’d finally collected herself – before she finally had the composure to do anything more than cry and be loved. With a deep breath, she calmed, before being blindly led toward the house, ushered home at last.

But she turned back, her mind clearing, the world stilling even as her family tugged her toward the house. Loki was still there, watching from the street – smiling. He raised his hand to his lips placing a kiss against his fingertips before he sent it her way. And the wind carried it with a scent like magic, into her waiting hand. She held it close as he finally disappeared, dragged a universe away before her very eyes. But his kiss settled warm in her chest, a mark upon her heart, a brand seared into her very soul. A promise.

_This isn’t goodbye._

And one day soon, they would be together again.


	20. Epilogue

Loki would never see time the same again. When one has lived to be as old as he, the passing days were hardly worth noticing when there would be thousands more before the weight of even one made itself known. Or so it was, before his life was reduced to a mortal woman who had given him reason to count not only the days, but the minutes as well.

He moved down the stairs, the glamour of the palace fading with every step he took into the Asgardian underworld, into the dungeons. The illustrious city was built atop its ancient beginnings, which had become the dark and haunting prison he’d come to know far too well. It was quiet down here now. Nothing but long rows of stark white, empty cells. Their putrid yellow barriers cast an eerie light across the old stone, turning his pale skin a similar tone. His gaze swept down the line, before ultimately ending up on his own. And then hers.

All of the furniture was gone, removed in their absence days before. And every surface had been cleaned top to bottom, no longer tainted by the horrors that had transpired within them. He stepped up to the glass and this time the barrier parted, admitting him into her vacant cell.

Its walls withheld a foreboding quality, even with every trace of the trauma washed away. But as he walked the room’s perimeter, the stench was still clear to him. He knew with easy accuracy where the guard’s blood had stained the glass, where it had pooled on the floor and trailed outside the cell. A vengeful mark he’d been happy to leave. His hand lingered against the glass as he walked, its magic humming against his hand, this time without sinister intent. It seemed almost apologetic the way it behaved now, the barrier parting around his hand like oil avoiding water.

He stared at the tiles of the floor, devoid of the artwork that had accumulated through her two-month captivity. But with a single touch of his sei∂r, the ink resurfaced and he could finally admire her drawings up close. There were animals beautifully rendered, words like poetry, scenes of places he didn’t know, people he didn’t recognize – hundreds of doodles cataloged in his mind before they vanished again. He wandered to where the bed had been, lingering only a moment on her abuse before recalling every event afterward that ultimately brought them together. She had softened his cruelty and in doing so, gave him new purpose – something worth fighting for – a need to comfort and protect. And the love he somehow received in return gave him hope he’d thought long lost and forgotten.

His mind brought to life again so many memories down here. Some more painful than others, but still he watched as he and Naomi grew closer, one torturous event leading into the next. He heard her laugh. Saw her cry. Felt her pain. But more than anything he found the path that every touch and promise had paved toward a future he’d only imagined. One he intended, whole-heartedly, to see through.

His mind followed their own tragic tale, until the moment they escaped, removed from one Hel to face another before finding a small moment of solace – one night that would live with him forever. To dwell on it, would bring an oh so telling smile to his face no matter how awful things seemed. But equally so, it was a painful reminder of what he was without. _Naomi._ His mortal. He missed her. After spending every day in her company for months, every day that passed without her was like a notch upon his heart. And everyday, without fail, his subconscious whispered its worries again and again. But not long after her departure, he’d made fuel of them, for the fire – the drive – to see them whole again.

But until then, he took comfort in the unending joy he’d seen in her as her family embraced her – people she’d assumed had long given up on her. And to see her pain so easily wiped away, to see her happy, had his eyes burning anew and a persistently genuine smile curling across his mouth before he could stop it.

Aimlessly roaming the cell, he spotted something out of place – at the edge of the cell, camouflaged by the stone and fortunately missed in the cleanup. Her pen. Her odd little weapon. A small piece of her left behind. It was only a piece of hand crafted metal, now scratched and bloodied and drained of its ink, but he turned it over in his hand, admiring it simply because it was hers. Perhaps, a souvenir of sorts. But more than anything, a reminder of the promise he’d made. _We will be together, my love, however, whatever it takes._

With a flourish of his hand, he stashed the trinket away, content in its presence that she was there. And if he closed his eyes, let his mind seek her out, he could see her at home on Midgard, peaceful and safe among her family and awaiting his return. And as he caught her smile, he thought nothing of the trials that had led him here or the final terms that held them apart, instead only looking ahead to the moment he would see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends…
> 
> I'm not sure whether to cry or throw a party. This is the second story I have ever finished and I am so incredibly happy that I was able to do so. And more than anything, I am so humbled and thrilled that so many of you have enjoyed my story. It is something I never ever expected, so many, many thanks. I could not have done this without each and every comment, review, favorite, and follow. You are all of you amazing!
> 
> It is of course my intention to continue this with a sequel - a part two. I will not say for sure, but given all the questions I've left unanswered, it would be foolish not to. On that note, feel free to follow me on tumblr at crazyrayray113.tumblr.com for updates on other projects and possibly the continuation of this one. Again, thank you all so much! All my love! XOXO


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